


The Awakening

by MissRowdy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Harry Potter, Eventual Smut, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Good Blaise Zabini, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Theo Nott, Hermione and Dean are Bros, Light Angst, Muggle Life, Multi, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Post-War, Ron Weasley Bashing, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 68,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissRowdy/pseuds/MissRowdy
Summary: In order to eradicate Pureblood supremacy, the Ministry of Magic has decided to send all seventh and eighth year students to learn how to live in the Muggle World. Each student who has connections in the Muggle World will be assigned a group of students to take care of and teach about Muggle living.What happens when Hermione get's chosen to mentor three Slytherin's who have made her life hell? Will they learn to put aside their differences, or will they continue to torment one another? Will they be able to work together with new threats on the horizon?Follow Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott as they learn that no matter where you come from; every one bleeds the same red.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind that Hermione & the others will be acting OOC. I won't be making her out to be some overpowered Mary Sue, but she will be able to hold her own. Before you start reading, you should also know that I'm not sticking to the tropes that every female lead needs to be a blushing virgin. My Hermione won't be written as a meek character. This is my first fanfiction, so take it easy with judgments. I don't mind constructive criticism, just remember that if you don't like what is written - don't read. 
> 
> Enjoy my lovelies.

Hermione’s headache went from slightly pounding to barely manageable as the eighth year students in the great hall continued to roar their displeasure. She was starting to question Headmistress McGonagall’s sanity after she made the blasted announcement, but now she had a bone to pick with her for subjecting her to this nonsense. Why must people scream and rage when they are told something that they don’t want to hear?

She rarely got her sleep after her return to the cursed grounds of Hogwarts, and it was showing in her pale complexion. It wasn’t helping that the entire great hall sounded as if a herd of Hippogriffs decided to storm through. Or maybe it was just in her head. _Yes, definitely in her head_ , she thought as she rubbed at the throbbing of her temples.

“You okay, ‘Mione?” Harry asked from his seat in front of her. She wanted to scream ‘No!’, but that wouldn’t do any good, so she kept her mouth shut and offered a tight smile. It did nothing to erase the worried furrow of his brow. She made a mental note to practice her fake facial expressions.

“I’m fine, Harry.”

She was fine. Just fine. Maybe if she kept repeating it to herself it would become true.

“Attention!” McGonagall boomed, “This is not up for debate! After the war, the ministry officials decided that the seventh and eighth year students will spend their last month of school in the Muggle World. You’re all adult witches and wizards, and it’s about time you act like it. This war has taken enough from our society, and these prejudices cannot last any longer. I fear that if we don’t learn to evolve and overcome our ignorance, the same cycle of hatred will continue.”

The great hall went silent, and Hermione would have sunk down in her seat in relief if she didn’t have to listen to such drivel.

“Each Muggle-born or Half-blood with a connection in the Muggle World will be given the responsibility of helping Pure-blood students assimilate to Muggle culture. It will be your responsibility to make sure each of your charges will come back to Hogwarts with the needed understanding of basic living without magic.”

Hermione wanted to scoff, but she held herself back. She couldn’t believe the Headmistress had the gall to sound so approving of this entire project. Was she forgetting the devastation some of these Pure-blood's wreaked on the Muggle World? What about the atrocities that some of them committed to the Muggle-born families?

While some of them hadn’t so much as lifted their wands against a Muggle, their words dripping with prejudice acid were enough to prove what they thought of them.

Ever since her return to Hogwarts for her eighth year, the students would keep quiet on their beliefs, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t there. There was no way that she’d forgive and forget what some of the Slytherin students have done to her. If the way the younger students scurried past the Slytherin’s were any indicator, it wasn’t pleasant for them when they were stuck inside the school with the Death Eaters during the war.

If Hermione’s family was still alive, she wouldn’t feel comfortable with subjecting them with these Pure-blood elitists. Some of the Pure-blood students maintain that the war had proved them wrong or that they ‘changed their ways’, but she had a hard time believing it.

 _No matter how many times a snake sheds its skin, it will always be a snake_ , her father once told her with a hard glint in his eyes.

By the time war was over, Hermione wanted to run far, far away from the Wizarding World and never look back. Harry had pleaded with her to stay by his side until they finished school, and she was now regretting it. She supposed that he thought returning to Hogwarts would change her mind about running away from Wizarding Britain, but she had her own motives.

Her only consolation was that she was able to go back to the Muggle World and take care of her parents business while dealing with whatever stuck up Pure-blood's she got stuck with.

“Each of you will be receiving a sum of galleons that will be traded for Muggle currency. It will be up to you to learn how to use this money, whether it be by card or coins. You will use this money to shop for clothes that will help you fit in, and it will be up to you to buy food, lodgings, transportation or entertainment. Keep in mind that once you run out, you will not be receiving any more. If you have your own personal funds, you are free to bring that with you as long as you get it converted to Muggle money as well.” 

The Headmistress looked around at the rapidly paling faces and Hermione couldn’t help but think that she was getting her own sort of pleasure out of watching them panic at the thought of experiencing something completely foreign to them. It serves them right, Hermione thought with a sick sort of vengeance. Let them flounder in her territory, just like her and her fellow Muggle-born's had to when they found out they had magic.

“Now since all of you have reached the age of adults, it is expected that you find your own place to stay. You will have enough money to rent a flat for the next month, but not so much as to afford a luxury inn. Once you are packed and ready to depart, you will all be taking the Hogwarts Express to the platform. Where you go from there is entirely up to you and your groups.”

Hermione could tell that by the looks everyone was sending each other that they were getting more apprehensive. Even Ron was looking pale and uncomfortable with the responsibility that was getting laid on his shoulders. This wasn’t surprising in the least. Hermione has been friends with Ron for almost a decade, and he’s only seen the Muggle World in small doses. He’s probably close to fainting at the idea of being thrown to the wolves.

“Most importantly,” McGonagall paused, making the tension in the room build, “Wands will be prohibited.”

Chaos ensued. Hermione liked to think it had nothing on the chaos currently flowing through her head, pounding in tandem with the beat of her heart, but she’d be lying. The noise of protest reached to the highest decibel that it had all night. Send the wizards and witches off to the Muggle World? Alright, they’ll be a little apprehensive. Take their magic away while your at it? The world is ending. She could practically taste the fear rolling off of the students in waves.

Cries of ‘No!’ and ‘You can’t do that!’ permeated the air.

What utter rubbish. She couldn’t find a sympathetic bone in her body to spare. 

If Hermione was in a poetic mood, she would have thought this would give her a sick sense of justice. Throw those Pureblood brats into a completely new and foreign world and see how they handle it.

“You can’t take away our magic!” Pansy Parkinson screeched like a banshee, “That’s not fair!”

“I can,” McGonagall responded calmly, “And I most definitely will. This is about learning how to live without magic, which you very well wouldn’t do if you had your wands.”

Hermione could see the point of it, but at this moment she couldn’t help but disagree. To take away their wands so soon after the war would be like losing a limb. Hermione herself still slept with her wand clutched in her hand.

She wasn’t enjoying the thought of being helpless. Maybe not so helpless if she were to buy Muggle protection, but with Death Eaters still on the loose, she couldn’t believe the Ministry would send them out into the world like a bunch of sheep waiting for slaughter.

The old Hermione would have raged and asked a million questions, perhaps even point out all the things wrong with their logic, but she knew the ministry would do as they pleased. There was no fighting this.

Without all the old families influence in the Wizengamot, the Ministry is trying to figure out the new pecking order in the high courts. Even though Hermione was planning on saying goodbye to Wizarding Britain, she couldn’t deny being eager to see how the ministry will be ran without violence and bribes.

McGonagall eyed them with stern disapproval. “One more outburst and I’ll assign every one two months instead of one. I know that this isn’t an ideal solution, but in order to graduate, you must complete the entire month.”

“What about our N.E.W.T.s?” One of the eighth year Ravenclaw’s asked, “By the time we get back, we should already be graduated.”

“Yeah!” One of her seatmates agreed, “How are we supposed to complete graduation requirements without taking our N.E.W.T.s?”

Ron’s face scrunched up unattractively before he scoffed. “Had to bring it up didn’t they? Could have left well enough alone.”

“Some of us are focused on getting out of here with a full education,” Hermione said as she spared him a dismissive look, “There’s no need to be an arse about it.”

Ron has been a constant thorn in her side ever since the end of the war. Especially with their time at Hogwarts. Snog a guy once and he assumes your ready to get married and be a housewife. Not that there's anything wrong with being a stay at home mum, but if Ronald was expecting her to mother him, he should have stayed at home.

He especially liked to remind her about their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets.

As if she was going to hand her life away for one measly - if not sloppy - kiss.

Sure there was passion, but she liked to blame that on the adrenaline of war. Hermione wasn’t sure if she was going to survive at the time, so she put all her worth into that kiss, and it was terrible. There was no chemistry between them outside of the adrenaline induced high.

She liked to think that she dodged an Avada with that one.

“That’s our ‘Mione.” Ron gives her patronizing look, “Always worrying about her education before anything else.”

Hermione grit her teeth in order to keep in the barrage of curses and insults she wanted to yell at the obnoxious redhead. She absently wondered when things had gotten this bad. She didn’t understand what was happening with their friendship. Had he always been such a prat to her and she was just now starting to realize it?

Maybe him leaving her and Harry in the middle of the Forest of Dean made her finally realize that he was a git and he only valued friendship when it benefited him in some way. Okay, maybe that’s a bit harsh, she conceded. Hermione needed to find a way to get rid of this bitter feeling before it swallowed her up whole.

“No need to be a git, Ron.” Harry says exasperatingly while smacking Ron on the back of the head.

If there was one thing you had to know about Hermione, it was that Harry was one of her favorite people. After everything he has been through, Harry managed to keep hold of his innocent actions. Sometimes she just wanted to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. This was one of those moments. Harry still viewed Ron with rose colored glasses. Bless him for that.

Ron was one of the few people that Harry had left after the war, and she would never willingly take that away from him, so she would keep her opinions to herself.

Ronald grumbles before he looks towards the Headmistress, but not before sending Hermione a scathing look.

“You’ll be required to take your N.E.W.T.s upon your return,” McGonagall announces. “If you don’t see the benefits of this, just think about the month break you will get to either study or take time to relax before your exams.”

It was as if half the room sighed in relief, while the other half tensed up in anxiousness.

Crazily enough, Hermione was looking forward to the time she will get to relax. Before the war, Hermione would have gone crazy and spent that month cramming in study sessions, but she felt comfortable enough now to pass the exams. She didn’t need to pass with top marks. She didn’t even care if she passed with an inch of certainty. Her goals only called for passing marks.

She supposed people expected her to pass with record breaking marks, but Hermione wasn’t wanting to make history all over again.

She was comfortable with her role in this world and her own intelligence, she didn’t need to prove to others that she held the ridiculous title of ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age’.

By the time the month was over, none of it would matter anymore.

She wouldn’t be here to be judged and revered for her cleverness.

She wanted to be more. She was going to be more.

“Now that we have cleared that up,” McGonagall started while pulling out some parchment, “We’ll start assigning the groups.”

Everyone in the hall sat up to pay attention while she and Harry shared apprehensive looks. They weren’t looking forward to being split up.

“Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass, and Pansy Parkinson will be assigned to Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

Hermione was beginning to feel terrible for Justin. The poor bloke was going to have to deal with the screeching that she was hearing from the opposite side of the Great Hall.

“Ronald Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, and Luna Lovegood are going to be with Harry Potter.”

Hermione looked over to Harry - who looked mighty pleased with his arrangement - and smiled. At least he’s got people he already knows.

“Dean Thomas will be grouped with Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones.”

The list went on for several long minutes until most of the Half-blood’s and Muggle-born’s were assigned with groups of other students. It was either fortunate or unfortunate - depending on how you looked at it - that so many of the students in seventh and eight year never came back. Hermione was just proud that most of the Muggle-born’s came back and never ran. It was a big ‘sod off’ to the Ministry that tried so hard to chase them away.

“Now the last group will consist of Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. You three will be assigned to Hermione Granger.”

Of coarse. Only her luck would land her with the three Slytherin’s who tried so hard to make her life a living hell. She thought that she was doing a great job of ignoring - _avoiding_ , her conscious whispered - the snakes, but it seems her success has ran out.

Harry let out a groan of dismay, “Hurry ‘Mione, we’ll cover for you while you run away.”

Hermione snorted, “Fat chance of that happening. When have I ever been the one to turn tail?”

“Never,” he replied while sending her a secretive smile, “I don’t want you alone with them, though.”

“If I get my way, there’s a chance none of us will have to separate.”

Dean Thomas gave her a sly smile from his spot next to her. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“You bet it.”

“Brilliant, Hermione. Let me know if you need any help,” he whispers to her with a conspiratorial wink.

She would have replied to him with some sense of reassurance if it wasn’t for Ronald’s face turning several different shades of red. The Weasley temper was crawling slowly but steadily, and she knew that she was going to be on the receiving side of it.

“Don’t even start with me, Ronald!” Hermione growled in irritation, “I don’t want to hear anything from you. You have a problem with the assignments? Take it to Headmistress McGonagall.”

“You’re not staying with those snakes!” Ron finally exploded, “I’m not going to allow you to run off with them. It’s too dangerous!”

“Go ahead and try to stop me,” she seethed back, “I can take care of myself, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

This was another reason her and Ron would never work together. Both of their tempers made it so their personalities mixed together like oil and water. They were always repelling against one another. She wasn’t some damned china doll that needed to be constantly protected. He will never view her as an equal, even if she’s way ahead of him in every way that matters. Merlin only knows how she’s never noticed it before.

“Oh, yeah? You’ll come running back for our help when those Death Eater's decide to turn you into their little play toy.”

Hermione stood up quickly and slammed her hands down on the table with a loud thud. The students and teachers quieted down quickly, turning to see what the commotion was, only to see Hermione with her hair crackling and a furious look upon her face. Some of the students who had seen Hermione this mad before quickly cringed away, knowing the look in her eyes meant there was hell to pay.

“You know what, _Ronald_?” His face was rapidly paling at the way she sneered his name. She spoke his name as if he was something disgusting and not worth the time it took to roll off her tongue. “I’m getting so sick and tired of you’re shite. You think I’m going to stand back and let you push me around? No. Absolutely not. Here’s your warning right now - if you keep treating me the way you have, I’ll make what happened to Umbridge look tame in comparison to what I’ll do to you.”

She leaned down so they were eye to eye.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Ron’s eyes seemed to widen to the size of dinner plates and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His cheeks turned a furious shade of red when he realized that people were watching the entire spectacle. If it were any other day she might have been the slightest bit embarrassed, but her skull was pounding, and her emotions were running at an all time high due to the news of their impending adventure, so she couldn’t find it within herself to give a damn.

There was no time to sit there and listen to Ronald bitch about who she got paired up with. Sure, she wasn’t happy about who she got assigned with, but she wouldn’t have Ronald taking out his own problems on her.

“That’s enough, the both of you,” Harry jumped in, playing mediator, “You can talk this out in private, there are people watching.”

“As long as he knows to back the fuck off.”

Harry’s face appeared to be concerned, and he leaned in before putting a hand to her forehead. Pulling his hand back, he looked at her with understanding.

“You’re burning up, ‘Mione.” Harry spoke to her in a soothing tone, “You need to make stop by the hospital wing before we leave.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Ron asked, apparently having come down from his temper induced tantrum.

“Nothing,” Hermione responded quietly, “Just got a headache.”

“Bloody hell, ‘Mione.” Ron asked exasperatedly, “Why didn’t you just say so? Now I know why you’re all moody.”

Harry sighs while rubbing his hands down his face, making his glasses go askew.

“No more. I’m serious, Ron. Go stand by Ginny and wait for the rest of us. We’ll head to the train together.”

Ron walks away in a huff, leaving behind a fuming Hermione and a sympathetic Dean, who was rubbing his hand over her back in an offer of comfort.

“You’ll be fine, love.” Dean crooned, “I’ll go tell Justin to meet us at the train station, and we’ll let them in on the plan.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Only the best for my favorite witch.” Dean says before walking away, leaving her with a wink and bright smile.

“What’s all that about?” Harry asks while standing next to her.

“That’s just Dean being Dean.” Hermione replies before looking at him with a serious expression, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I don’t mean for you to stand between me and the git.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably, looking a little guilty. “No, don’t say sorry. It’s partially my fault. I’ve been trying to push you and Ron together all year, even if I knew that you weren’t into it. I can see how you two barely get along, and I guess I’ve just been trying to hold onto how things used to be that I haven’t noticed when he’s crossed a line.”

“Don’t worry about that, Harry. Things will work out if they’re meant to.”

Harry gasps playfully while throwing a hand over his heart. “Is _the_ Hermione Granger spouting things about fate? What has the world come to?”

“Oh shove off,” Hermione smiles before becoming more serious, “If there’s anything you need to worry about, it’s me maiming those three Slytherin’s before the end of the month.”

Harry’s smile fell, and the light in his eyes dimmed. “You’re completely right, of coarse. But if anyone is able to handle those guys, it would be you. You sure you’ll be alright?”

In all honesty, she didn’t quite know the answer to that. She’d like to say that she’d be brave, but it was more complex than that. Those three guys are part of the reason that she hated herself so much growing up. It would take some time to view them with anything other than casual indifference. She’s moved past the anger and hatred she held towards them because of their bullying, she just wasn’t sure what type of people they were ever since the war. She’d have to wait and see if they proved her wrong.

“Yeah.” she replied with a sigh, “I’ll be just fine.”

“Then why have you avoided looking at them this entire time?” Harry asks with a playful smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with waiting for them to approach me is there?” Hermione asks with a casual shrug.

She wasn't going to look over there only to see them sneering at her. It was better to ignore their presence completely. She just hoped that they could make it out of Hogwarts before tearing at each other's throats. 


	2. Chapter 2

Draco, Blaise and Theo have stuck close together throughout their eighth year at Hogwarts. None of them had initially wanted to come back, but they agreed that it seemed like running away. Slytherin's may be known for their self preservation, but all three of them made mistakes during the war, and they wanted to show people that they weren't running from it. They would face their problems head on.

Their parents would say they were being bloody Gryffindor’s, but now wasn't the time to be a snake.

One could even say that adapting to fit in to their new surroundings was the perfect way to be a Slytherin.

It was better to face off their problems right now than to wait until they were out in the world, facing older and more experienced enemies. Most of the students here at Hogwarts were barely worth fearing. What they were worried about was the angry parents who lost a child to the war. Or the parents who lost someone because of their own family members.

Merlin only knew what type of sick shite Lucius Malfoy did to harm others. It was one of Draco's fears - being blamed for his father’s mistakes.

For Theo, it was paying for the crimes of his father. Months ago when he got onto the Hogwarts Express, he had a third year student spit at his feet. Incredulous without showing it, Theo demanded to know what the kid's problem was. It turned out that Theo's father was responsible for killing the child’s muggle parents.

It was enough to make him hurl.

Where could they have gone wrong?

They were raised to believe that Muggles were dirt beneath their shoes, and Muggle-born's were even worse because of their ability to steal magic.

'Mudblood' was a phrase that they heard every single day growing up.

Now this kid was telling him that his father murdered his parents because they didn't have magic? Why did this make him feel sick to his stomach? Shouldn’t he have been less sympathetic to a child who supposedly stole magic?

Blaise Zabini was different compared to his best friends, but some damage done as a child is not easy to forget.

He couldn't remember his father, and his mother was called The Black Widow.

Her name was not given without reason.

Though Blaise wasn't known to sprout out Pure-blood propaganda, it wasn’t like his mother didn’t teach him that Muggle-born’s are lower than scum. Unlike his two friends, Blaise’s mother left him alone a lot as a child. He had to grow up being observant and quiet.

Blaise had his own reasons for this, just as his friends had their own.

Draco was loud to gain his father’s approval because he craved the attention that a Pure-blood family couldn’t grant to him. Theo learned to keep his head down because his father was abusive and would beat him and hex him if he stepped one foot out of line.

Blaise learned to be observant, because every time his mother brought some new man home, he knew that the same man wouldn’t make it out of his family with his life.

He rather liked to think of his mother as a poison. Everything she gets close to shrivels up and dies. The first to go is their personality. Sure, the man may be a nice bloke at the beginning, but soon after, he’ll be a quiet shell of himself. Second to go is their independence. His mother made sure that once she trapped them in marriage, there wouldn’t be any family or friends coming to check on him. Last to go is their life.

Blaise wasn’t sure how his mother came up with all of the different death scenarios, but if there is any way to make it look like an accident, she’s sure to make it happen.

The point is, is that each of the three men come from broken families. Each of their heads were messed with since the moment they entered into the world. They were shaped and molded by the people who were supposed to love them the most.

Even if they admitted that they were wrong about their prejudices, they still had their faults.

Draco, Blaise and Theo are all bitter men that are trying to learn and move past their mistakes. But moving past those mistakes is hard when they are surrounded by people who love to remind them of all the things they’ve done wrong.

 _Maybe this would be their chance_ , Draco thought.

Unfortunately, the answer lies with Granger. Would she be able to move past all of the things he subjected her to? And perhaps one of his biggest mistakes, would she be able to look at him without seeing the coward who watched while she was tortured and carved up by his crazy aunt?

The old Draco Malfoy would be shivering in disgust at the idea of having to set one foot in the Muggle World, but he couldn’t help but admit that he should take the chance to learn how the other side lives. There was another part of him that was panicking at the thought of living without magic, and there was his father’s lessons on how disgusting Muggles are running through his head.

“Think Granger’s going to come to us, or is she going to make us go to her?” Blaise asks with a smirk, but Draco could see the underlying tension.

“The swot will make us go to her, of coarse.” Theo chimed in.

“Well we better get going then,” Draco grumbled, “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to go traipsing around the Muggle World if we get left behind.”

Draco peered across the Great Hall to see Granger and _Potter_ standing together. He could barely say his name without wanting to spit it out in a venomous hiss. It’s interesting how childhood rivalries can infect the way you interact with someone, even if you bear no ill will. Can being Gryffindor be enough reason to hate somebody? Always so bloody noble, that lot.

“How adorable. She’s trying to be subtle by not looking at us,” Theo smirks.

“Just because you can’t see us, doesn’t mean we can’t see you,” Blaise croons to her, even though she can’t hear from where she’s standing.

Draco gives them the famous Malfoy death glare. “Quit being idiots. Gryffindor’s don’t have a subtle bone in their bodies.

“It took awhile for me to spot her. What happened to her outrageous bushy hair?”

“Right you are, Theo.” Blaise confirms with his smirk still in place, “It looks like our bushy haired, know-it-all has grown into a knockout. Just look at the curve of her lovely arse.”

“She’s fit, I’ll give you that.” Theo replies after running his eyes down her body.

“What about you, Draco? What do you think?”

Draco wanted to tell his friends to shove off, because there was no way that swotty Granger could hold the attention of two of his friends. To tell the truth, he barely spared the brains of The Golden Trio a glance during the school year. It was hard to look at her without picturing her screaming and writhing on the floor of his manor. Now that he thought about it though, there was no hand waving in class, and he barely heard her speak during lessons unless she was spoken to directly.

Draco furrowed his brows before bracing himself to look at her, and when he did, he felt all the air leave his lungs. Holy shite, she looked amazing.

Wild curls of mahogany brown hair with light streaks evaded his eyesight. Her hair no longer held the frizzy texture, instead it flowed out in attractive curls that matched the owners wild personality. Her eyes flashed amber when she saw them approaching, and if his breathing wasn’t already ragged, he believed his breath would be stolen completely.

She had gentle curves in the places that marked her as a woman, but you could tell that she was worryingly thin. And once you looked closer ( _Is that a glamour charm?_ ), you could see the tension between her brows, and the dark shade beneath her eyes that showed proof of long, sleepless nights.

Draco found himself wondering if anyone else noticed how ill she looked. Slytherin's were advised to look deeper than what the surface showed, and now that he started noticing what was underneath the fetching features, he couldn’t help but berate Potter and his merry band of followers for allowing whatever ailed her to continue without help.

“She is quite the vision,” Draco muttered to his friends grudgingly, “But she looks like she’s about to fall over from fatigue.”

Catching on to what he’s saying, Blaise and Theo cock their heads to the side, ignoring the glare they were receiving from the feisty witch, and inspected her at their leisure. Sure enough, they nodded back to him to silently convey that they could see exactly what he was seeing. The witch looked like she needed a full meal and a long night's rest.

Finally reaching the witch, Draco decided to take the lead. “Granger,” He greets with a nod of his head, “If you and Potter are ready, we’ll follow you.”

Her glare softens a tad, thanks to the almost normal greeting. There was no such luck from Potter, though. He looked ten seconds away from jumping down Draco’s throat. _Ahh_ , Draco muses, it must be because he didn’t greet him directly. It was moments like this that Draco couldn’t help but mess with Potter a tad.

“Granger, Potter.” Blaise interrupts with a bow of his head, Theo following shortly after.

“If we’re done with this ridiculous posturing, we should go now.” Hermione spoke with reluctance showing through her tone, “We’re meeting with some of the other groups at the train, and we will figure out where we go from there.”

“We’ll follow your lead,” Theo spoke quietly, probably trying to keep the peace while it lasts.

Without further consideration, Granger and Potter started walking towards the door of the Great Hall. Their no nonsense way of walking made it seem as if they were marching off on a mission. It was very different to the graceful stride that each of the Slytherin’s sported.

Draco couldn’t help but wonder if they viewed this as some sort of death walk. He wanted to laugh at the predicament they were all in. If someone told Draco’s first year self that he would be heading off to live like a Muggle - he would have questioned their sanity. He definitely wouldn’t have accepted it as he is now. Like he thought earlier, Draco was looking forward to being away from the castle that brought up so many terrible memories. He was just hoping that being around Granger wouldn’t affect him too much.

It was obvious that she was trying to keep her distance from them, and he couldn’t find it within himself to blame her for it. If he was in her position, he would have ran far away and never looked in their direction.

Maybe that was the difference between being a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.

The lions had no sense of self-preservation.

“What are we doing here?” Draco found himself asking as they stepped up to the hospital wing.

Hermione shared a look with Potter before she peered back at them. “Just stopping here to grab something. You guy’s can wait here. When I’m done, we’ll pick up your trunks and head down to the train.”

Draco wanted to retort that he’d only sit and wait _if he bloody well wanted to_ , but it was oddly comforting to see that Granger kept the bossy side of her personality. There were nights in the common room where the other Slytherin’s would question how Potter managed to defeat the Dark Lord, but in his personal opinion, they didn’t know Granger well enough. She probably had those goons - Potter and Weasley - marching to her every whim. Most wizards and witches argue that she was the mastermind behind it all.

Draco grunted, not liking the direction his thoughts were wondering.

Perhaps he should go and see Madam Pomfrey before he leaves. Something must be wrong with him if he’s complimenting one of the Golden Trio, indirectly or not.

Draco waited until Granger left to start conversation with Potter. For some reason, he felt Potter would be more receptive to idle chit chat, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and braced for the awkward talk. “So, Potter, what do we have to look forward to once we get off the train?”

Potter side eyed him, obviously confused on what he was up to. “Believe it or not, I’m not sure. ‘Mione said that if things go right once we meet with the other group, all of us won’t have to split up.”

“You don’t have a plan?” Blaise jumps in, finally showing that he actually does have a voice, “Aren’t you in charge of a group, too?”

“I got the Weasley’s and Luna Lovegood,” Harry started, “I’m not sure why McGonagall assigned me a group. Even if I grew up in the Muggle World, I hardly know anything about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blaise asks, letting the confusion show on his face.

“It means that I don’t have much experience with the Muggle World.” Potter spoke curtly, showing he was done with the conversation. The three Slytherin’s shared a look, and Blaise shrugged and looked away. They must have stepped on dangerous grounds, and being the snakes that they are, they decided to not provoke Potter’s temper by broaching the subject more.

“What’d I miss?” Granger spoke from the entryway, causing all of them to jump.

“Nothing at all,” Potter mentioned, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

* * *

 

Theo wasn’t impressed with the group he was standing with at the train station. If he had to listen to any more squabbling, he’d probably lose his mind. What was it about Gryffindor’s that rubbed him the wrong way? Could it be the self righteousness, or perhaps it was the way they had to yell over one another to prove their point?

He was starting to sympathise with Granger, who was sitting at the side of the group rubbing at her temples. He could see the tension in her brow, suggesting that she had an overwhelming headache. If he had to hang around this group of rambunctious idiots, he’d probably feel the same. He wondered how anybody could deal with this mess. If there was a time that he should be missing his suppressing quiet in the Slytherin common room, it would be now.

“Shut up, Ron!” Potter finally exploded while rubbing his hands through his hair frantically, “No one cares about you missing your bloody Chudley Cannons game.”

“Hell, Harry!” Ron spoke with a kicked puppy look, “All I’m saying is that they should at least send us a copy of the Daily Prophet while we’re away. The Chudley Cannons are playing this weekend, and I need to know the final scores!”

Potter looked over to Granger, sharing some type of silent communication that only years of comradeship could result in. “I’ll repeat myself again, just in case you didn’t get it the first time. _Nobody. Gives. A. Shite._ ”

In a confusing turn of events, Granger bursts out laughing. She laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her face. Even Potter lets out a few chuckles, but everyone else on the platform looks at them like their crazy. What in Merlin’s name did they get themselves into? These people are mad.

Weasley turns a startling shade of red, looking as if he’s going to blow any second, but the other members of the Golden Trio don’t seem to care.

Theo looks over to his two friends, thinking that maybe - just maybe - he could get them out of here fast enough before they become infected with whatever is going around. _Because it’s obviously contagious_ , Theo thinks to himself as Finnegan starts laughing.

“You have no idea, Ronald,” Granger finally speaks, looking a little delirious from laughter, “In a few days you won’t have time to worry about your ridiculous Quidditch game.”

“I bet fifteen pounds that he tries to go running back to mummy after his first week in the Muggle World,” Dean Thomas says to Granger.

Granger pulls out a flimsy piece of paper and hands it over to Thomas, “I got twenty saying he’ll barely make it three days.”

“OI!”

“That’s not fair, ‘Mione,” Potter pipes up looking disapproving, “He’ll at least make it to four days.”

The three gamblers broke out into cackles. Theo could barely keep his lips from tipping up into a smile. Finding Weasley at the end of jokes was something the Slytherin’s were used to, but they usually got wands pointed at them for laughing or taking part in it.

He could barely resist throwing in his own money, but he’s afraid that it might be him that runs off before Weasley does. He’s been good at hiding his panic, but the thought of stepping out into the Muggle world is intimidating to someone who has never seen any of it before. At least some of the Pure-blood families have gotten to see what Muggle life had to offer. His family treated Muggle’s like scum, so it wouldn’t do to interact with them or their world.

Draco sends him an amused glance when he sees the smile hiding under Theo’s indifferent mask. It looks like he’s not the only one appreciating the humor of the moment. Theo found himself wishing it’d last a little bit longer.

“You say that now,” Weasley puffs his chest, “Just wait, I’ll prove you all wrong. How hard could living as a Muggle be?”

Granger seems to cringe at his show of arrogance, making Theo wonder what happened to their friendship. He saw the fight they had in the Great Hall, even if he couldn’t hear what she was saying. “With that attitude, you won’t last a day.”

“It’s not like you can blame him,” Potter adds in jokingly, “He grew up thinking that rubber ducks were the most intriguing Muggle artifact.”

She quirks a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Theo wonders if it ever gets tiring having people diminish the world they grew up in. If somebody walked into the magical world constantly complaining how magic was somehow lesser, he’s sure he’d have been rightfully pissed off. Maybe that’s where some problems between Muggle-born's and Pure-blood's stem from. Miscommunication.

“Enough joking around for now, don’t you think?” Granger addresses idly as she inspects her nails, “Why don’t we set up a plan for once we get off the train.”

“I thought you already had a plan?” Potter asks.

“Well I do, but I don’t know if everyone will want to follow or not.”

“Let us decide that.”

Without further pushing, Granger lays out their plan, “I have a vacation home that’s used for family reunions that we can all stay at. I don’t know if all of you want to split up or not, but the house will have enough room for all of us. It’s located in a small town, so none of you will have to deal with the bustle of the city. We won’t have to worry about close neighbors or family members showing up.”

“If I were you, I’d choose to stay together,” Dean interjects easily, “I’ve been to the Granger vacation home before, and the place is awesome. The town has plenty of pubs for the blokes, and shopping for the little princess’s.”

“Dean,” Granger reprimands with a poisonous glare, “Don’t you dare lump me with them.”

He sheepishly smiles before continuing, “It’s fine if want to split up, but it might be easier to stay together. I know you all will be new to this and everything, but expecting one person to look out for three of you at a time is unrealistic.”

Theo bristled, not liking the implication that he’s a child in need of looking after.

Granger must’ve caught on to the hostility that rose with Dean’s uncaring comment. “He doesn’t mean it like that. It’s just that we’ll have to teach you how to use Muggle money, how to shop, how to drive. Honestly, the list goes on and on. It’ll be stressful if you want to split up. It makes more sense to go as a group. You won’t have to waste money on renting a motel or flat either.”

“I don’t see what the problem is with sticking together.” Draco drawls out silkily, “I know how you Gryffindor’s are with jumping straight in without thinking, but I’d like to have everything planned out before we leave. With that said, what will we do with transportation?”

Theo wanted to punch his best friend at the moment, and Blaise seemed to feel the same way. What was he thinking trying to bait the person they’d be stuck with for a month? Is he trying to make this more difficult than it has to be?

Hermione cuts him an annoyed look. “We’ll just have to take a train, or rent out cars for each group.”

“Better get it figured out now, the Hogwarts Express is about to leave.”

“Why don’t you lead the way then, Malfoy?” Hermione asked with a saccharine smile that screamed danger.

Draco wouldn’t look in her direction, Theo noticed, even when he was talking to her. He’d have to ask him about that later.

“How about we talk about it in the train compartments, and we’ll take a vote when we get off?” Blaise suggested like a true politician.

Granger’s shoulders seemed to relax. She no longer looked like she’d rather tell Draco to sod off, which was a step in the right direction. Theo would have to thank Blaise later.

Without further conversation, Granger and Potter lead them onto the Hogwarts Express. Theo followed silently, taking note of the way Weasley trailed behind them at a longer distance. He kept telling himself that he shouldn’t care, but his curiosity was taking hold of him. What could have happened to cause such a rift between a group of three that was notorious for sticking together? 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was a little hard for me to write. I don't want to go into detail explaining "Muggle stuff", because I just know that it'll bore the hell out of the readers. For now I'm going to focus on getting everyone settled in before I start to barrel into the plot. I'm also trying to make their transition natural. This chapter we get to see a little interaction between Hermione and Blaise. Next chapter will give Hermione more time with the three Slytherin's, much to the dismay of Ronald Weasley. Enjoy!

His heart pounded in  his chest. The inconspicuous stone pillar greeted him with something that felt like finality. Once he crossed that magical barrier, he was saying goodbye to magic for an entire month. This was feeling much more symbolic than it should. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to not have magic surrounding him. It hit him with startling clarity that the little things matter. The things that wizards take for granted would seem extraordinary to those who lived without magic. This could be another lesson that the Ministry was trying to teach them. Don’t take for granted what you have today, because there’s always a chance that you may not have it tomorrow. 

Blaise gathered his breath and looked over to his closest friends. Draco looked more pale than his complexion could handle, giving him the appearance of somebody who was walking to his death. Theo looked more composed, his face filled with curiosity. He should have known that his friend would take this much better than himself and Draco. No matter what his father tried to beat into him, Theo would still be filled to the brim with a scientific curiosity that could not be sated.

“See you on the other side?” Blaise asked his friends, looking off to the pillar Hermione Granger disappeared through.

“You got this, mate.”

“So you say. I’m not the one lurking.”

Draco grimaced, showing how uncomfortable he is with the idea of leaving his spot. “Self-preservation is an inherited trait, I’m afraid.”

“Probably the only good thing you inherited.” Theo practically chirps.

“That and my gorgeous hair,” he says dryly, “I have such good friends.”

“Alright, you better go, Zabini,” Theo warns, “It would ruin our reputation if we were too scared to cross. I mean, come on, did you see Pansy? I could practically smell the smugness rolling off of her.”

“Not to mention that Granger looked like she was just waiting for a reason to leave us behind.”

“Well here goes nothing.” Blaise speaks before rushing through, feeling the magic rush through his body.

Flashing lights and loud voices assaulted his senses when he stepped through Platform 9 ¾. For someone who was used to candle lights, the bright lights hanging in the train station sent a shock to his brain.

He sent a glance around to the witches and wizards waiting on him. Some of them were waiting with bored looks upon their faces, but for the most part, they looked amused by the situation. Some may ask why he’s never been through the Platform 9 ¾ before, even when other Pure-blood's have. His mother considered herself too  _ high brow  _ to take the common entrance, so they would use the floo. At this moment and time, Blaise wished he’d traveled this way before.

When you use the floo, you feel like you’re being squeezed and zipped around from place to place, but walking through that Platform felt like being surrounded by ancient magic - making him wonder how long that this Platform has been around. It wasn’t as old as Hogwarts, but it’s not like he was able to walk through the walls their either.  

Judging by the eyes full of wonder, Draco and Theo noticed it as well.

Blaise like to think that if his last moment with magic was at this moment - he’d be happy. And he is. He’ll be going a month without magic, but the feeling of that ancient magic would not be easy to forget. It reminded him of the old figurines infused with magic that his grandmother collected at the family manor in Italy.

“Alright, listen up!” Granger spoke, “I’ve already contacted a local dealership here in the city, and we’ll be renting cars. It shouldn’t put a huge dent in your budget. Each group will get their own car, but  _ only _ if at least one of you knows how to drive.”

Justin raised his hand sheepishly, making Granger look at him expectantly.

“What if we know how to drive, but never got a license?”

Blaise just wanted to know what the hell they were talking about. He didn’t understand what this  _ license  _ nonsense is about. What he did know was that driving including one of those flying muggle cars, and he wanted to puke right then and there. His mates may be Quidditch fanatics, but he was never into heights.

If he remembered correctly, Weasley and Potter flew a muggle car into The Whomping Willow around their second year. He was supposed to trust these people with one of those contraptions?

Blaise was  _ not  _ liking the sound of this. He could almost hear Draco taunting him in his head.  _ Don’t be such a drama queen, Blaise. _

Granger pulled his attention back by releasing an amused huff. “You won’t need a license, McGonagall forged us some fake IDs. I’ll hand them over in a minute, and the rest of you will have to memorize the information on them. You’ll keep your names, but your birth date will be adjusted.”

Justin blew out a relieved sigh.

“Okay, any more questions? No?” Granger looked over everyone before nodding to herself. “Very well, then. Does everyone’s group have at least one person who will know how to drive?”

She received multiple affirmations before she continued to hand over everyone’s fake IDs, as she called them. Blaise looked down and had to hold himself from blinking in shock. There on the front of the bendy card was a picture of Blaise. He knew that muggles pictures didn’t move, but it was still awkward to see it. He found himself wondering how the Headmistress had gotten a picture of him, but he decided he didn’t want to know.

After everyone read over their card, and committed their information to memory, Granger and Potter lead them up a stone staircase. The walls became filled with natural light the farther they reached up the stairs. People still roamed around them, but he appreciated the normalcy.

Goosebumps filled his skin when he recalled the stories of how Muggles could feel the magic radiating off of a wizard. In the story, it was told that Muggles had the ability to steal their magic.

Blaise knew that these stories were filled with lies to brainwash the Pure-blood children to stay away from people without magic, but it didn’t stop the chill running up his spine when he got too close. He should have known a life's worth of conditioning wouldn’t be so easy to overcome.

“They’re not going to bite you, you know.”

Blaise about jumped out of his skin at the sound of the wry comment. He looked up to see Granger peering at him with amusement shining in her eyes. He wanted to cringe at the idea of her witnessing his minor relapse of judgement.

“Before you judge me,” Blaise started with a wry twist to his lips, “You should know that my mother used to read me bedtime stories of Muggles who could steal magic with the mere brush of the skin.”

He expected to see rage or indignation, but her humor remained. It made him question the way he went about starting conversation. She knew he was being serious, right?

There was that huff of laughter yet again, making Blaise question if she ever truly laughed. It would be lovely to hear it again if he could. “If you think that’s scary, you should hear the millions of horror stories about magic in the Muggle World.”

Blaise looked at her questioningly, urging her to explain as they walked. He may have been distracted by all the people if he didn’t want to hear what she was saying so badly. 

“There are way more stories and movies about magic than most of us know what to do with. Whether magic is good or bad relies solely on the creator of the movie or book. There will always be Muggles who believe in magic.”

“Movies?” Blaise questioned without thinking, too distracted by the idea of Muggles believing in magic. If that were true, then how has their existence been kept a secret for so long? He knows about the Statute of Secrecy, but he’s not sure how that could protect a whole civilization, let alone an entire culture spread across the world.

“That’s something you’ll probably learn about later. I could go into a whole lecture about them, but now is probably not the time,” she says with a pointed look to the group waiting on them to catch up.  _ Huh _ , he didn’t realize that they had lagged behind.

She starts walking in front of him, and because Blaise is first and foremost  _ a man _ , his eyes travel down her back and down to her arse. He’d been with enough Muggle-born's to know that she’s wearing jeans.

It was a big difference to what Astoria, Daphne and Pansy are wearing. What they are wearing might be considered revealing at Hogwarts, with their top buttons unbuttoned, and their conservative skirts pulled up to show their knees, but the way that Granger's outfit clung to her showed the perfect outline of her body.

 

The other Muggle-born girls he's been with wore jeans, but never like Granger’s. The strange blue material hugged her arse tight like a seeker’s glove. He felt like he should be thanking Merlin for blessing their world with an arse like that. 

“You’re drooling.” Theo spoke with a matter-of-fact tone.

He didn’t even notice him and Draco slowing down to walk beside him. He wanted to hex himself for being so obvious about it.

Blaise removed his eyes fast enough to catch his mates checking her out as well, and gave them a mischievous grin. “Can you blame me?”

“I don’t think even Potter or Weasley could blame you.” Draco spoke spoke with amusement, “How long do you think they’ve known that she looks like that?”

“What makes you think they even notice at all?”

“Well, from here I can see that Potter hasn’t batted an eyelash at her, but Weasley doesn’t seem able to take his eyes off her. Not unless he’s glaring at you, though. What were you two talking about that had you looking all friendly?” Theo rushed in one breath.

“Breath, Theo.” Blaise admonished his friend, “She was just giving me shite about my near panic attack.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says bluntly, “What do you think, Draco?”

“I think that someone needs to get you to stop speaking like our dearly departed potions professor.”

* * *

If his first encounter with the Muggle’s on the train station weren’t enough to freak him out, the tall buildings and noises were enough to set him off into an anxious mess.

Lights were flashing everywhere, and people were speaking loudly into little boxes held up to their ears.

It’s been a twenty minute walk to the dealership to get the cars, and Blaise was fit to blow up. Not only has he learned that apparently all cars don’t fly, which was a relief, but he also learned that you aren’t supposed to cross the road if one of them is moving. Poor Pansy looks like she’s about to faint in horror. Their handlers - as they’re officially called - started to herd them into a giant group of catatonic witches and wizards. Granger, Potter, Thomas, and Finch-Fletchley surrounded them in a circle for the majority of the walk, trying to take the brunt of the chaos. It’s his guess that they were giving them time to adjust.

“Get in the car.”

“No.”

“Blaise,” Granger pleads, “This is the only way to travel, unless you want to walk your arse back to the train station.”

He was as pale as his dark complexion allowed, and his palms were sweaty with anxiety. “You’re sure there’s no other way?”

“Just get in already!” Draco shouts, getting frustrated with his companion.

“I’m sure this is the only way, unless you want to take days walking there.” Granger confirms, much to his dismay. “I’m already a licensed driver, I know how to drive and have been for years now. This is probably one of the tamest modes of transportation.”

“Fuck it!” Theo shouts, his face etched with annoyance.

Before Blaise knows what’s happening, he feels a tug on the collar of his button down shirt. He tries to catch himself - he really does, but he goes face planting into the seat of the car anyway.  _ Is this real leather? _

“You son of a blastended whore!” Blaise snarls at Theo, half tempted to lunge at him. It’s too bad that he’s not in the position to do any lunging, especially with his face still planted to the seat.

“Enough of the dramatics, Blaise.” Draco spoke dryly, examining his finger nails, “It’s unbecoming of you.”

Granger hurriedly closes the door to the back seat, before she walks around to the drivers side with agitated footsteps. He absently noticed how beautiful she looks with her curls bouncing, and her eyes spitting fire.

As soon as she sits in the driver seat, she’s turning towards them with a scowl that would send lesser men running for the hills.

“Buckle up, all of you!” Granger yells as she demonstrates with her own strap contraption. “See this? This is a seat belt. It’s used for protection in case of an accident. All you have to do is buckle it in.”

Hardly giving them any time to comply with her instructions, Granger’s already using her hands to control the car, turning the wheel to maneuver it next to the cars where the others are waiting. She pushes some buttons, and the glass windows roll down - making Blaise and the others question everything about there being no magic in the Muggle World.  

“Harry!” Potter looks over at her with furrowed brows, “Follow directly behind me. You won’t know where to find the cabin. It’ll take us an hour or so to get there. Dean's the only one who knows where it’s at, so make sure you don’t fall behind. I won’t be stopping.”

Potter blanches at her tone, probably seeing the waves of agitation rolling off of her. Blaise kind of feels bad for the bloke. How many years has he had to deal with her temper?

Potter hums nervously before pushing his glasses up his nose, “I don’t know what to say right now. Drive safe? Don’t drive too fast?”

Granger  _ growls _ at him. Growls like a damn predator warning their prey that they’re about to pounce. It’s kind of hot, not going to lie. It’s a painful reminder that he’s never shagged a Gryffindor, but it also makes him question if he’ll ever be able to get her to growl for him like that.

Enjoying the direction his thoughts are wandering a little  _ too _ much - if the tightening of his pants was any indication - Blaise decides to stop the pervert train immediately.

Theo’s snickers are a glaring reminder that he didn’t have the comfort of hiding behind his wizard robes any longer. The wanker found the most inopportune moments to act like an immature bag of dragon dung.

Damn it all to hell.

One simple growl and he was acting like a prepubescent wizard who was seeing a pair of tits for the first time. This would not do. This would not do  _ at all. _

Fortunately or unfortunately, Granger takes Potter’s frozen moon cow eyes as the chance to haul arse out of the parking lot.

Blaise was back to ground zero. He’s terrified that this large, uncomfortable hunk of metal is going to go careening off the side of the road. There’s no time to think about the lack of magic, Theo’s smug face, or Granger’s attractiveness when he’s sure he’s going to die. For the better part of the hour, Blaise holds on for dear life, not getting the chance to view the scenery that Theo keeps commenting on. He’d beg for the witch to slow down, but Slytherin’s don’t beg. He won’t be the first.

He hardly notes that there is green  _ everywhere _ before he’s opening the door of the car. He wants to kiss the ground and thank the gods for allowing him to live to this moment, but he’s afraid that he’ll get called a drama queen again.

The other cars are pulling up the driveway, gravel crackling under tires in announcement of their arrival. The cars stop, and several of the other Pure-blood's are jumping out of the cars like they're on fire. Sometimes it's easy to forget that him and his friend's aren't the only ones who are new to all of this. His thought process is interrupted by the sounds of retching. 

_ Is that-? _

“Is that Astoria throwing up in the fountain?” Draco asks in baffled amusement, his eyes dancing merrily.

Granger’s head whips up fast enough to hear a crack.

Blaise cringes.

Theo laughs.

“Don’t you dare!” Granger shrieks, running to the blonde, “You couldn’t make it into the bushes? What do you expect me to do with that?”

Astoria groans in despair.  _ How is she going to impress Draco after this? _ Daphne holds her hair while Pansy rubs at her back, whispering soothing words.

“Justin!” Granger yells over Astoria’s retching, “You’re cleaning this up!”

“Oh, come on!” Justin yells back, running his fingers through his hair, “This is a nightmare. First I have to deal with the screaming and crying, now your saying I have to deal with this?”

“Not my problem,” she replies stonily before pointing to the side of the cabin, “You’ll find the hose over there.”

Now that she’s pointed to the house, Blaise could finally take a moment to appraise the place they’ll all be sharing for the remainder of their stay in the Muggle World.

The home is beautiful in an old fashioned, charming way. It looks like a log cabin that you would see in a Wizarding Adventure magazine. There was no posh entrance or white peacocks in the front lawn, but it was a manor in it’s own right. The windows are large, allowing the visitors to see inside of the home. The home is very large. Not as large as the Malfoy Manor, but large enough to fit the whole group comfortably.

What he wasn’t able to notice during the ride here, he was able to get a good look at, now that both of his feet are firmly planted on the ground. The house sat in the middle of a clearing with a picturesque quality. From where he’s standing, he can tell that they’re surrounded by miles of forest.

“Beautiful, ‘Mione,” Potter breathes out, “How come you’ve never taken us here?”

Granger’s face pinches, showing her discomfort with his question. “Not sure when I could have shown you. My family usually came up here every summer for vacation. Now that there’s nobody left, it’s never occurred to me to come back.”

His face pales when he understands the underlying meaning behind her words. Blaise has never heard much about the Granger family. It wasn’t like Granger went around speaking about her family at Hogwarts. What little he knows is that her parents were killed during the war. He didn’t know that her whole family was taken by the devastation as well. A million questions for her came to mind, but he pushed them to the back. It certainly wasn’t any of his business.

Potter has the grace to look guilty about bringing it up. He walks up to her, kisses her forehead and everything is seemingly well. Her shoulders loosen up and the easy smiles are back.

Just when Blaise, Theo and Draco began to feel awkward, they heard Weasley bellow from behind the house.

The little Weaslette was too busy glaring holes at Granger to notice that everyone was following the call of her brothers voice. Blaise could sense the sudden tension between the gorgeous brunette and the smaller redhead. He was beginning to wonder if Granger had a new habit of being on the wrong side of the Weasley’s. Not that he would blame her, of coarse. It would take a certain type of patience to stick around them for long periods of time. Frankly, he wondered how her and Potter could stay sane. 

He heaved a sigh, realizing that he may not stay sane for the remainder of their month long banishment. It felt like he was having to prepare for the long haul. Running away was becoming more appealing.

Blaise slid Draco a look of wry humor. “The first thing we’ll need to learn is where we can find some Firewhisky.”

“They won’t have any. Firewhisky is only sold in the Wizarding World.” Theo barged into the conversation, using his bluntness to ruin any sense of hope he had.

“You just had to kill my fun, didn’t you?”

Draco looked up at the sky, as if praying to the gods. “I know I’ve been saying this for years now, but we really need to teach you basic human communication.”

Theo looked offended. “I know how to interact with people.”

Blaise thought Theo’s indignation was endearing in a special kind of way. He was an acquired taste that many people wouldn’t know what to do with. Theo was a great friend who was smart and loyal - which was hard to find in the Slytherin house - but at the moment Blaise wanted to strangle him.

This trip was already turning into chaos. Here Blaise thought that this could almost feel like a vacation, but it was turning out to be a total mess. He wished he had his wand so he could whisk himself away to the Zabini Manor. At least if he was there, he’d be able to lock himself in solitude and drink his way through the month of hell without magic.

Blaise couldn’t wait for this to be over.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time she gathered everyone around, the sun was starting to set over the trees. It turns out that Ronald was interested in the pool and hot tub. That turned out to be a twenty minute spiel on what the purpose of a pool was, and _why would anyone want to swim in piping hot water?_

The medication that she got from Madam Pomfrey before they left for Kings Cross Station was enough to hold off her headache, but she knew that it would return in full force if she didn’t get good sleep tonight. When they returned to school in September, Hermione was upset that she wouldn’t be able to have someone to lay next to her when she sleeps. Harry had done a great job at fending off her nightmares, and she wasn’t going to humiliate herself by asking one of the girls in the dorms to sleep in the same bed as her.

She was Hermione Granger, and admitting she had a problem would be enough to send others into a panic.

If The Golden Trio couldn’t recover from the war, then who could?

She wasn’t ready to admit she had a problem to others, even if the truth was written across her face. The glamours to hide the scars on her body and the dark circles under her eyes are only going to last so long. It didn’t help matters that without her wand, she wouldn’t be able to re-cast her glamour charms. She’d give it twenty-four hours to dissipate.

She made a mental note to look into Muggle makeup as soon as she could.

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her struggles, but lack of sleep and malnourishment was a bitch to overcome, she didn't want people pestering her to take care of herself better. She was bitter that Ron seemed to recover with no signs of PTSD. How was it that Harry and herself tossed and turned all night, expecting for the next attack to sneak up on them, while Ron was comfortable enough to snore his way through sleep?

Madam Pomfrey was doing the best that she could, supplying Dreamless Sleep Potion, and headache potions, but there was only so much that she could do. Whoever makes those potions is probably making a nice living after the war. So many wizards are becoming addicted to the endless void while sleeping. This was one of the reasons for the sudden spike in addictions. She promised that she would not become one of them, though her declaration was seeming less important when she struggled her way through sleep.

Harry made his opinion on her potion intake very clear. Being the sweet man that he is, he found it hard to believe that he couldn’t fight his demons for her. He knows that she’s struggling with the aftermath of the war, and he couldn’t understand that some things just can’t be fought against.

He told Hermione that what she was doing to herself was not healthy.

She told him that it was better than drinking and fucking her way into an early grave.

For the first time in a long time, she felt self-loathing fill her entire being. She was the one who made him second guess everything around him. She could see the way he looked at other major players of the war and question if they were destroying themselves the way Hermione was. It didn’t help that Harry felt like the entire war was his fault. He felt that it was his fault that Hermione couldn’t cope.

It took a year of walking the Hogwarts corridor for it to sink in that she couldn’t continue the path she was taking. It wasn’t just hurting herself, it was hurting those around her.

Today was the first time that she’s drank a potion to cover for her headaches in a month. She was making progress, and she could see that Harry was questioning if this sudden change in routine was going to cause her to relapse.

If she learned anything about her experience with the potions, it's that she couldn’t let those demons rule her life. She would use this reminder that she had to be strong for Harry.

That being figured out, Hermione decided to ignore Ron’s ridiculous questions in favor of getting everyone settled in to their rooms.

Being a three story cabin, there are bedrooms on each floor. Everyone has the choice to choose to share a room with others, or claim one for their own. She saved the master bedroom for herself and set Harry up with the bedroom across the hallway. Neither of them liked being too far away, anyhow.

“Go ahead and choose your own rooms. If you want to share a room with others, just move the beds.”

“Want to share, ‘Mione?” Ron asked with a lecherous grin. Hermione hoped that no one could see the repulsed shudder that ran through her body.

“I’d rather share a room with the giant squid,” she replied dryly.

The others around her snickered, showing that they may be twenty years old, but they still had the humor of a first year. 

Ron pouted petulantly, not liking being the butt of everyone's jokes. “I’ll just bunk up with Harry then.”

“Sorry, mate. Not going to happen. You snore louder than a Erumpent in mating season.”

“I second that, Harry!” Seamus cried out dramatically, “The wanker kept the whole boys dorm awake with that awful noise.”

While everyone started to comment on Ron’s inability to sleep quietly, Dean sidled up next to her. She was glad for the reprieve. She liked to think that her schoolmates were able to grow up with all of the darker years they suffered through, but she would wrong. It should make her happy that they were able to sit back and relax after everything happened, but she wanted to get all of them settled in so she could escape from the suffocating group.

“You going to be alright, Mia?”

Hermione blew air out her nose in exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you to ditch that terrible nickname?”

“You let those two goons call you ‘Mione.”

“Do you know how long it took me to give up on the fantasy of them never calling me that again?”

“So what you’re saying is that persistence wins the race?”

“Sod off, Thomas.” Hermione shoves him with her shoulder playfully. She wouldn’t admit that she loves both nicknames. It probably wasn’t a secret. Her eyes always warmed fast when either was voiced. It gave her a surge of warmth that she had friends close enough to give her nicknames as they see fit. It was better than pet names, that’s for sure. When they first came back to school after the war, Ron started to call her pookie. She cringed every time she thought of that unfortunate memory.

“In all seriousness,” he continues, pushing his hands into his jean pockets, “Do you think that you’ll be okay being back here? You know I miss this place, but we don’t have to be here if it brings up too many memories.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” she replies with a faraway look in her eyes, sighing contemplatively. “It’s about time to let go of the past. What better way to do that than facing my problems head on?”

“There she is,” he whispers, looking at her with soft eyes and a fond smile. “It’s been a while.”

Hermione felt extremely bemused by that statement. He was one of her closest friends, but sometimes he could take the hipster vibe too far with the vagueness. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Haven’t seen you in all of your Gryffindor Princess glory in a long while.”

“That girl died along with her innocence.”

“No, she hasn’t. I think she’s just been hiding.”

“Hiding from what, one may ask?”

“The truth,” Dean speaks bluntly. “You’re right, it’s time to move on. I think it was time for you to realize that they aren’t coming back. Hiding from it won’t do you any good. I say this as a friend, but it was getting to be worrying. Reality wasn’t going to wait for you to wake up and smell the roses. I’m just relieved that you came into it on your own.”

She groans, feeling the weight of his words, but having trouble processing them. It wasn’t a secret that she’s been in tentative denial. She knew they were gone, truly, but it was different knowing that she was that one left of her family.

“Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only one mourning them,” she tells Dean with a gentle apology in her tone.”I’m sorry. I’ve been a right bitch about it. Will you be okay spending time here?”

“Yes, of coarse. This place is like our home. It’s about time that we honor what little that there is left of them.”

Hermione could breathe easier knowing that she wasn’t on her own. She owed a lot to this man beside her. Harry was her best friend and her person, but Dean was the brother that she always hoped for growing up. Not many people were able to tolerate her when she was a tyke, but Dean stuck around through thick and thin.

“Now that we’ve gotten through the hard part, how about we move on to happier subjects?” Hermione proposed before moving on to teasing, “When are you going to ask Seamus out?”

He sputtered with shocked outrage, his cheeks blushing. “When are you going to let that go?”

Hermione gives him a look full of reproach. “As soon as you grow the bollocks to tell him you love him.”

Dean covered her mouth with his hands, cutting her off her off from lecturing him on the benefits of telling his long time crush that he loves him. She knew it was hard for him, especially since the Irish man has been his best friends for years. She could sympathize with him in that regard.

“I will tell him on my own time,” he tells her firmly. “You will not interfere, Mia.”

She nods reluctantly with a petulant pout. “That’ll be the last time I ever try to help you get laid.”

Dean cracks an involuntary smile.

“Better go lead your group to their rooms. Just remember that I got your back if you need it. You know where to find me.”

Hermione smiles fondly before kissing Dean on the cheek. “You got it lucky with you’re group. I’m actually jealous of you.”

“Someone has to have the luck around here.”

“I’ll see you later. I’m going to show them to their rooms and then go relax for a little bit. Maybe break into the liquor stash.”

“You rule breaker,” he eyes her fondly before turning to go talk to his group. “Love you, Mia.”

“And I you,” Hermione replies before looking over to Draco, Theo and Blaise, who were doing a terrible job of pretending that they weren’t trying to listen in. Boys stuck in the bodies of men. Very good looking bodies, if she were completely honest.

“I’ll show you to your rooms unless you’ve decided to stay together?” Hermione asks them in an attempt to stay civil.

“We’ll share,” Draco offers. Never let it be said that Malfoy’s weren’t polite, even if it was barbed in sarcasm.

“Is the room next to mine fine? Or will you want to stay next to Pansy and the others?”

“Absolutely not,” Draco shudders while the other two laugh at his expense. “Sorry for being abrupt, but as far as we can get from them, the better.”

“You’ll like the room next to mine, then. It’s on the back side of the house on the first floor. There’s only one other bedroom in the hall, which Harry is taking. That’ll keep you far enough away from them.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Blaise groans dramatically. “It would have been a nightmare having them try to listen through the walls.”

“Is that something they've done before?” Hermione asks with more curiosity than she should have.

“Yes. Let’s just hope none of them learn how to pick locks. Without our wands to set up protection wards, we won’t be able to keep them from sneaking in the room,” Theo sneers.

It gave Hermione a start to realize that she was conversing with them comfortably. So far, none of them had sneered at her about her looks or blood status, which was a huge difference from the last time they had encountered each other. The awkwardness hit her in full force.

_Shouldn’t one them be hissing hurtful words her way by now?_

“If they succeed in that, we’ll find a way to stop it,” she offers awkwardly, not knowing what to say any longer. “We can always install multiple locks if you need it to keep them out.”

Theo must catch on to her fumbled emotions, because he offers her an easy smile filled with amusement. “We’ll let you know if we wake up to naked woman trying to molest us in our sleep.”

Both Draco and Blaise bring their palms up to their foreheads before groaning, showing solidarity in their exasperation of their friends antics. Hermione herself was just as baffled. _Is he usually this blunt?_

She blinks at him before shrugging to show him that she’s nonplussed with his vulgar statement. “Okay, here’s your room.”

She twists the knob on the door, pushing it open so they can view their room. It was a nice room that already had a big enough bed that could fit the three of them. They may get tired of sharing a bed, but at the time it was good enough. It was a comfortable room in Hermione’s biased opinion. She knew that it had nothing on the homes they come from, but the white walls and cream upholstery projected a feeling of warmth. It was far from the gloomy feeling that the Slytherin common room favors, she knows.

Her favorite part of the room is the sliding glass door that leads to the back patio. She has the same for her room, and it's refreshing to be able to walk to the back yard and enjoy a nice drink by the pool without waking anyone in the house up.

The three men look around the room with appraising eyes. They set their bags on the bed, leaving Hermione to believe that they approve. At least they haven’t started demanding for a room with richer tastes.

“I’ll leave you to it then. If you need me, I’ll be in the room to your right. If I don’t answer when you knock, I’ll probably be on the patio.”

“Thanks, Granger,” Draco voices before she walk out of the room. She nods back at him, voicing what she wouldn’t say out loud. _You’re welcome_.

Once she gets to her room, she shuts the door and plops on her bed with a tired groan. This day isn’t even half way over, and she already wants to curl up and go to bed. It would be more comforting if she knew that she could sleep knowing she had silencing charms to cover up her screams. She wanted to bash her head against the bed frame. How could she not think of this before? Without her magic, she couldn’t be certain that her screams would go unnoticed.

Hermione wasn’t sure if the others suffered from nightmares, but she’s betting that Harry will be thinking the same later. How will the others be able to sleep peacefully if their screams made this home sound like a house of horror?

_Worry about this later_ , she commanded herself. It was no use stressing about it before she needed to.

With the sudden silence, Hermione was able to sit back and let her mind wander towards the handsome men in the room beside her. She meant it when she thought of them indifferently. She’d keep testing the waters before she made any judgments. It was possible that they were just biding their time to strike, but it was also possible that they really have moved past being the schoolyard bullies.

Hermione didn’t know much about what they were up to during the war, so she couldn’t base any decisions off of their actions in the devastation. She knew that Draco was at the Malfoy Manor at the time of her short imprisonment, but that’s all. It would be unfair of her to cast any judgement on a scared boy who looked devastated when she was being tortured on the draw room floor.

She’d let their actions speak for themselves.

If she were to hate them based on their families indiscretions, it would make her the ultimate hypocrite. She never blamed Sirius for his family, she thought with a pang in her chest.

Maybe it was time to move on, just as Dean suggested.

* * *

The light of the sun reflected off of her glass that contained the strongest bourbon they had in the house. She took a sip, enjoying the pleasure and burn of it sliding down her throat. Her father once said that bourbon was to be savored. If he could see her now, he’d be proud. He sat her down on her sixteenth birthday and told her it was time for her to experience the pleasure of a good whiskey. _But don’t tell your mother, that woman is as scary as she is beautiful_.

Hermione enjoyed Scotch just as much, but the taste of the bourbon brought bittersweet memories whispering in the corner of her mind.

It scared her more than she’d like to admit that these memories may fade away with time. She wanted to hold on to them for dear life.

Hermione continued to swirl the amber liquid in her glass, hoping that her mind would go quiet if she drank more.

She wasn’t ready for the responsibility that the Ministry dumped on her shoulders. How could they expect her to be responsible for these men’s futures when she hardly had a grasp of her own? It wasn’t fair, she knew, but nothing in life is fair.

Smooth footsteps sounded behind her but she ignored them in favor of drinking another sip of her prized whiskey.

“Mind if I have some of that?” The somewhat unfamiliar voice asked, “I’d like to rub it in Blaise’s face that I’ve found alcohol.”

She pours another glass without looking up. She may love this bourbon, but she had no qualms of sharing it with someone. This drink deserved to be savored by as many people as possible. She passes the drink over silently, waiting for the commentary on how Muggle alcohol is inferior to their precious Firewhisky.

Coughs sound from her right, making her smile kick up a notch. “What in the name of Merlin? That burns something awful.”

She hums contemplatively before replying. “Embrace the burn until you can’t feel a fucking thing.”

“I thought Gryffindor's were supposed to be better at motivational speaking. Nice touch though.”

Hermione finally looks over to Theo, giving him her full attention. “Giving motivational speeches was never my thing. I’ll leave that to Harry.”

“Do you think he could give me a speech on how not to drink too much of this? I have a feeling that this is a lot more potent than what I’m used to.”

“He doesn’t know I’m out here drinking right now. If he did, we’d probably both be scolded. Honestly, I don’t know when we managed to switch places. He’s taken my spot as mother hen.”

“Have you secretly been a rebel this whole time? I’m impressed.”

“You’d be surprised on how easily one may ignore the rules once you’ve experienced as much rule breaking adventures as I have,” Hermione spoke wryly. She was starting to enjoy herself with this banter. It’s been a while since she was able to sit with someone to talk freely without fearing judgement.

“That’s right. If I’m remembering correctly, there was an incident with some Polyjuice Potion that I heard about in second year?”

Hermione felt her cheeks flush at the innocent reminder.

“That may or may not be one such occasion, Mr. Nott,” Hermione drawls flirtatiously, hoping that she could distract him from the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Oh, no,” he replies giddily, face lighting up in curiosity, “I know that look. What happened during that _adventure_ , as you call it?”

“Now’s not the time to take a trip down memory lane,” she deflects with a wave of her hand, “Maybe another time, Nott.”

“You can’t leave me hanging like that, Granger,” he pouts, giving voice to his displeasure, “I’ll only come back with a million more questions when you’re ready to answer.”

She downs her glass, gesturing to Theo to do the same. “I’ll tell you another time, perhaps. Finish your bourbon.”

“I’ll let it go for now, I suppose,” he sighs as if she were the one pushing him, “Why don’t you tell me what this  _bourbon_ is? I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

Hermione pours them both another glass, holding hers out for him to clink his against. “This is a whiskey that’s made in America. The process of making it is quite fascinating. They use corn and other such ingredients to brew it before they put it into a large barrel. They let the alcohol sit and age, and it only gets better the longer they let it sit. I believe this bottle had been aging for forty years before they bottled it? It’s expensive, but worth every penny.”

She half expected that Theo would look bored with her lesson, but he seemed fascinated. “Are you saying that the longer it sits, the more tasteful it becomes? Like elf wine?”

“Exactly,” she nods, pleased that he understands, “Elf wine doesn’t sit as long as most Muggle alcohol, but you get the gist.”

“Fascinating,” he whispers while looking into the glass. “I would love to learn more about the brewing process.”

Hermione was surprised, but she didn’t let it show. She decided that she could humor him for a little bit, noticing the sun was far from setting. They had been getting along for a while now, so there was no harm in teaching him more. She spent the next thirty minutes or so teaching him about the different Muggle alcohol selections, which he questioned why there was so many. It was surprisingly comfortable talking with each other. Hermione had a feeling that he understood her on an intellectual level. The need to learn and understand everything was shared between them. Out of everyone in the house, she knew Theo matched her in the need to question things around him.

For the first time since she left Hogwarts, she got the feeling that everything was going to be alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Suspicion is a feeling that Draco knows intimately. It gets tiring to always question what’s going on around you. When his best friend enters the room looking chipper after being away for a lengthy period of time, he finds himself wanting to bang his head against the wall. Theo left earlier with the excuse of wanting to explore the house, so it’s a little suspicious that he shows back up in a good mood, especially since everyone in the house either hates them or wants to fuck them. He doesn’t want to question his friend knowing that Theo will most likely dangle his answer in front of his face.

Draco should know by now that his dark Italian friend has no such reservations.

“Why do you look like you just won a bottle of Ogden’s finest Firewhisky?” Blaise asks suspiciously.

Theo continues to hum his merry tune, flopping down on the bed face first. “It’s a wonderful day outside isn’t it, mates?” Draco can hardly resist rolling his eyes. This is the avoidance that he was expecting when his mate first stepped into the room.

“I don’t know.” Blaise rolls his eyes, “Why don’t you tell us more about it? What did you happen upon out there that’s making you look all moon eyed?”

“If I told you, you would find a way to take it away.” he grumbles with a pout, “Good things never last when the two of you get involved.”

“That’s harsh, mate.” Draco drawls, feeling slightly miffed.

“So harsh.” Blaise echoes, “Give us something to work with here. Did you get a quick shag with one of the groupies? Tell me, was it Daphne or the Weaslette? I know that she’s got her eyes on Potter, but I noticed her checking you out at the train station.”

Theo gags at the implication. “Merlin no. Never going to happen. I’ve heard the rumors. While Potter was out saving the world with his sidekicks, she was giving any guy who asked a test run on her broomstick if you know what I mean.”

Draco sighs exasperatedly. This seems to be a common occurrence when Theo is around. “That makes no sense, Theo. It’s the bloke who has the broom.”

“Whatever.” he scoffs, “You know what I’m implying. Should I call it her flying carpet? Will that satisfy you?”

Blaise looks thoughtful for a moment, his finger tapping away at his chin. “That might just work. You could always ask her if her magic carpet matches the drapes.”

Draco has to push down the bile rising up his throat at the thought. He wouldn’t touch a Weasley if someone offered to pay him a million galleons. His hatred for the redheaded family is very much still intact. A dozen wars couldn’t change that fact. When he first arrived at school after the war, he liked to think he was above such childhood grudges, but one look at the Weasley’s from across the Great Hall was enough to dissuade him of that fact.

“Merlin's balls, Blaise.” Draco chokes out, “That was too far.”

Blaise lays down on the bed next to Theo before he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Draco finds himself jealous that his mate can get away with that without looking creepy. “The way I see it, we don’t have many options in this house. The blokes outnumber the ladies, so unless you’re into that, you may want to choose quickly. I may try to hit up Susan Bones. She’s got a nice rack on her, and based off of the bedroom eyes I was receiving earlier, she might be into it.”

“Where do you even pick up these sayings? Honestly?” Draco blows air through his nose, seeking patience, “ _Bedroom eyes? Does the carpet match the drapes_?”

Blaise sits up excitedly. “Remember Lisa Turpin? She was my first Muggle-born lover. Never wanted to go back to the stale Pure-blood woman after I’d gotten my first taste.”

“So what you’re saying is that you were getting lessons on Muggle slang in between your time in the sheets?” Theo asks curiously. Neither of them knew that Blaise had ventured to the more forbidden fruits.

Blaise beams, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Exactly. I’m surprised neither of you decided to test your leashes a bit.”

“I’m not going to dignify you with a response to that.” Draco says to his friend, “What I want to know is why you went back to Pure-blood’s if you loved you’re little Muggle-born’s so much?”

The smile drops off his face before he replies, “Too dangerous. With my family being neutral, we were being watched too carefully. No matter what the Death Eater’s say, we were just as owned by the snake faced bastard as the rest of you. Taking the mark would’ve only verified that fact.”

Draco pulls down his sleeve to hide the parasitic mark on his arm. It’s mostly habit that has him covering it now. Whenever he hears someone speaking of the mark, it’s second nature to make sure it’s hidden. “I never understood how the neutral families got away with it. How were you able to avoid getting the mark when you sat in the same room with him during the Death Eater meetings?”

“We were funding him from our family vaults. As long as we kept giving him the money, he wouldn’t bother putting a mark on my arm. I figure you two would’ve got the same treatment if your father’s weren’t so adamant on you getting the mark.”

“It’s too late now.” Draco shakes his head ruefully before looking over at Theo, “Have you noticed that you’re mark has been fading for the past year?”

“It’s because his foul magic is finally leaving the world. Just because he died doesn’t mean his residual magic would disappear with him, unfortunately. I’m hoping it won’t be long before it becomes barely noticeable.”

“I suppose we got lucky that they’d fade at all. Some people aren’t as lucky with their marks from war,” Draco says, thinking back to the crude letters that marked Granger’s arm. It makes him sick that she’ll have to live her whole life with that abhorrent word carved in her arm and the slash over her neck as a reminder of that night.

Yes, Draco noticed the glamour charms she uses to cover her scars. He’s not eager for them to stop working. They’ll be just as much of a reminder of his cowardice as the dark mark on his arm. _One day at a time_ , Draco tells himself, _now is not the time to drown in self-pity_.

Theo groans dramatically while throwing his arm over his eyes. “You’ve officially ruined my mood. This was not supposed to escalate into a reformed Death Eater pity party.”

“Oi,” Blaise replies indignant, “I wasn’t a Death Eater.”

“Semantics.” Theo waves off the words.

“Why don’t you tell us why you were so happy when you came in the room then? If you don’t want to confess, we could always talk about how depressing it was to be at the manor last summer.” Draco manipulates him lightly.

He sighs dreamily in response. “I found my future wife.”

“Is that so?” Draco raises his eyebrow condescendingly, “Please feel free to enlighten us, Theo.”

“I’ve just had the most stimulating conversation of my life. You two are no slouches when it comes to cleverness, but you have nothing on her.” Theo replies with the most absent minded voice he’s ever heard from his usually quiet friend.

Draco begins to understand where this is going. His stomach drops when the realization sinks in. The poor sod is talking about Granger. What could they have talked about for such a short amount of time for his friend to come back acting like he’s been dosed with a love potion?

Blaise cackles with wicked amusement. “What about Tracy Davis? Didn’t you say she was going to be the future Madam Nott back in sixth year?”

“It was never going to work out.” Theo sighs mournfully, “When I told her I wanted to enter into a marriage contract, she said that she’d rather marry Marcus Flint than end up attached to the Nott name.”

Draco and Blaise fall back on the bed laughing their arses off. It’s fascinating that their friend is one of the smartest students at Hogwarts, but his social skills suffer so badly. Draco can picture Theo walking up to the feisty blonde Slytherin and informing her rather impersonally that he’d like to spend the rest of his life with her. Just the image in his head sets him off again. It’s refreshing that out of all his friends, Theo would remain the same.

“So,” Draco starts when they calm down, ignoring Theo’s glare, “You’re new future wife is Granger?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Want to fill us in on how that came about?”

Blaise sits up, showing his interest. He probably didn’t realize that Theo was speaking of Granger at first. “Wait, Granger? You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not pulling one on you. I went exploring and wound up on the back patio. Granger was sitting out there drinking Muggle alcohol. I asked if I could have a glass, and it took off from there.”

“You’ve fallen in love over a glass of alcohol?” Draco questions, feeling incredulous. This conversation is getting too bizarre for him.

“Ten points to Slytherin.” Theo positively beams, “I almost wanted to tell her right then and there, but I decided it may be a bit too straightforward.”

“No kidding.” Draco rolls his eyes, “It looks like you learned from your past mistakes.”

“Of course I have! There’s no way that I’d risk the rejection until she got to know me more.”

Draco feels like he should go confront Granger to see what she’s up to. There’s no way that she’d sit down with one of her childhood bullies and have a civil conversation. Sure, she was acting reasonable with them earlier on the way to this house, but it’s not likely that she’d let go of a grudge that fast. She has every right to hate them for what they’ve done and how they’ve treated her in the past. So that begs the question, _is she playing some type of game that they’re unaware of?_

He wants to be prepared for her to make a move. It doesn’t help that Theo seems to be infatuated already. Whatever is going on in that big brain of hers has the potential to hurt his friend if he wasn’t careful. The witch might not know it, but once you catch Theodore Nott’s attention, there is no getting away from it unless it’s on his own terms. How did the chit manage to catch his attention anyways?

Apparently she caught it by playing towards his friend’s intellectual side. Her newfound beauty could have something to do with it, but the three of them have never been swayed by profound looks unless it was for a nameless shag. Could it be possible that she is being genuine in her actions? He doesn’t know, but he’s going to find out somehow.

* * *

 

Draco and the others step into the sitting room where everyone is waiting. Granger looks up from her spot in between Potter and Thomas. “Right on time. We were just about to decide what to do next.”

“Does our opinion really matter here?” Draco drawls sarcastically, making her scowl at him.

Who could blame him for provoking her when he knows she’ll look at him like that? The fire in her eyes would be appealing to any self respecting wizard.

“Save the attitude for someone who appreciates it, Malfoy.” she replies coolly with a lifted eyebrow. “Every opinion matters these days, haven’t you learned that yet?”

It’s unfortunate that Draco has a thing for feisty woman. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be feeling the sparks rush up his spine with every swotty word she utters. This is going to be a problem for him. Verbal spars with Granger have always been one of his favorite activities.

“I must be slow on the uptake.” Draco returns with the same tone.

She looks him up and down with a raking gaze before looking him straight in the eyes. There goes that annoying spark again. Feeling oddly exposed, he leans up against the wall and crosses his legs with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Would you like me to remind you?” Granger asks sweetly, making him cringe on the inside. When her voice gets like that, Draco knows to back off. Just because she doesn’t have her wand, doesn’t mean that she won’t resort to using her fist as she has before. He can feel the ghost-like whisper of pain at the reminder. She knows how to pack a punch just as well as she wields a wand. Which means she’s phenomenal at it. No one can rightfully claim that she’s a slow caster.

As gone as they are with their banter, they miss the looks everyone is exchanging. Astoria and Weasley are seething with jealousy, which isn’t a surprise. What is surprising is the look Potter and Thomas are sharing. They look amused, as if their clashing of wits is expected.

“Can we get on with it?” Weasley interrupts their staring match with his usual belligerent tone. “I’m starving and there’s no food in that bloody kitchen.”

“I would say that patience is a virtue, but I’m afraid it’d be lost on you.” Granger shoots back at him with disinterested eyes.

“What does the _even_ mean?” he asks her with a raised voice, “Not all of us are fluent in bookworm talk, ‘Mione!”

Granger shakes her head with a disgusted look upon her face. “I’ll ignore you for now, Ronald. I’m afraid that I’ll lose more brain cells if I continue to humor you any longer.”

“Don’t know what that is, either! This is why everyone calls you an insufferable know-it-all! You always got to talk like you got a broom stuck up your arse!”

Draco is bursting with curiosity while watching their row. It’s not an uncommon sight to see those two fighting, but this is bordering on hostility. Especially from Granger’s side of the room. The temperature seems to spike along with the sparks of restrained magic in her hair. It’s fascinating watching her hair sparkle and rise with her temper. How in the name of Merlin was she able to conceal her magic in the Muggle world when it rises off of her in waves?

His breath feels stolen with the sight of it.

To gain his composure, he looks to Longbottom, who is watching the scene with barely concealed amusement. “Does this happen often?”

Longbottom looks over to him, surprised by the attempt at civility. He shuffles awkwardly for a moment before replying. “More than you’d think. Their rows are legendary in the Gryffindor common room.”

For all of his growth and sudden wealth in appearance, Longbottom is still as awkward as ever. It reminds him that he has amends to make with a lot of people in this room. Sometimes he forgets that Granger isn’t the only one that he’s tormented.

Theo looks over at Longbottom curiously. “What made them legendary?”

“Both of their tempers are explosive, Ron just has a shorter fuse than ‘Mione. There was a time that curses were being thrown around the room. We had to vacate all of the younger students so they didn’t get caught in the crossfire. McGonagall made her and Ron spend two weeks in detention to fix all of the furniture that was destroyed. Ron ended up in the hospital wing with second degree burns.”

“Burns?” Draco’s eyebrows shoot up, impressed with her nerve, “Fights don’t even get that bad in the privacy of the Slytherin common room.”

Longbottom grimaces and confirms. “‘Mione can be real vicious when her temper peaks out.”

“I remember some instances that reminded me to never mess with her.” Blaise offers with a grin, “Marietta Edgecombe's face was never the same after she got caught up with that tricky contract that Granger wrote up. I have to say that I was impressed at the time. Never knew a Gryffindor could have it in them to plan something like that.”

To Draco’s surprise, Longbottom started to laugh in his own shy way. It seems as if his change in his appearance hasn’t changed too much of his personality. “You have no idea. Some of the things she’s done has even me questioning if she was sorted into the wrong house.”

Draco looks back to where her and Weasley are still participating in a shouting match. The others are jeering at them, egging them on. He shakes his head while he observes the witch whose arms are flailing about in an irritated manner.

If the world they grew up in was different, he’s sure she would’ve done well in Slytherin house, but alas it wasn’t meant to be that way. She would’ve had to fight every day for her right to be in the house that hated her just because of her blood. It makes him wonder how many extraordinary witches and wizards that his house missed out on because of the prejudice.

“Children, children.” Potter scolds the pair, “You’re giving everyone a bad impression. Let’s just order pizza and get on with it.”

“All those in favor of pizza, say aye!” Finnigan bellows playfully.

“Aye!” Potter, Thomas, Finch-Fletchley and Weasley cry out.

If this is how Gryffindors act all the time, Draco is glad that he's never had to have much interaction with them. 

“Just order the damn pizza. They don’t even know what it is.” Granger says while rolling her eyes. “I’ll go pick it up and grab some beer while I’m in town.”

Draco clears his throat to gain Granger’s attention. “I thought every opinion matters?”

Her eyes spark with amusement when what he says registers. She bats her eyelashes innocently before replying. “Only when I say it does. It's basically an unspoken rule. Is that a problem, Malfoy?”

His lips quirk up into a slight smirk, making her eyes widen for a moment before she covers it up. He knows how disarming he can be. He’s a _Malfoy_ for Merlin’s sake. There hasn’t been a single Malfoy in existence that has been left wanting for looks. He can almost hear his mother berating him inside his head. _Your pride in your name will get you into trouble one day. You get that from your father, and it’s caused nothing but trouble since the day I married him._

He feels a sharp nudge in his side. Looking over he finds Blaise scowling at him. “Stop that. You’re making Theo pout.”

Sure enough, Theo looks like he’s about to have a fit. “This is what I meant when I said that you ruin everything.”

“Please,” Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you’ve never had a problem with sharing before.”

“Not when it’s some random slag, but this is my future wife we’re talking about here.” Theo whispers so she can’t hear from where she’s watching them with curious eyes.

“What if I want her as the next Malfoy matriarch?” Draco asks curiously. Not that it’s what he actually _wants_ , but he wants to see how Theo will react. This will help him subtly figure out how serious his mate is about the witch.

“Over my dead body.” Theo scowls.

He can barely hold back his startled shout when Longbottom erupts into a coughing fit. He’s looking at them with wide eyes, not believing what he’s hearing. Draco opens his mouth to tell him that he’s not even _remotely_ serious about what was just said. He forgot that Longbottom was standing so close. He’s going to have to keep an eye on that with so many people around. The last year at Hogwarts has been a little isolated with only him and his two friends keeping company. It’s been awhile since he’s had to look out for this situation.

Longbottom beats him to it when he raises his hand to stop whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “Nope. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Wait, I was just giving Theo shite abou-”

“You might want to stop there. When ‘Mione eventually hears about this, I want plausible deniability.”

Blaise laughs out loud, breaking through the tension like a cutting hex. “You’re not so bad, Longbottom.”

“Thanks?” Longbottom manages through wide, confused eyes, “I guess you lot aren’t as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“Who’s going to ride with me into town?” Granger’s voice calls their attention. “If you want to go into town, lets go.”

“You should take your group, ‘Mione.” Potter speaks up, “If our groups want to go, we’ll drive into town as well.”

Granger looks over to them. “Sound fine to you three?”

“That’s agreeable.” Draco says stiffly, afraid his voice might give away their conversation from just seconds ago. Theo nods along, but Blaise shakes his head frantically.

“No way am I getting back in that death trap. I’ll stay behind on this one.”

“Yeah I think I’ll sit out as well.” Longbottom says to Dean Thomas before turning to Blaise, “If you don’t mind, I’ll hang out here with you.”

“Not a problem at all, mate.” Blaise replies, always eager to make a new friend when he’s allowed.

Draco and Theo share a look of contempt. They just knew that Blaise would be a social butterfly if given the chance.

Granger gathers her rather ugly beaded purse and overcoat before she heads out the front door, turning to beckon him and Theo along. Like dogs, they follow behind her, making Draco clench his jaw in frustration. He takes it back. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing that she kept the bossy side of her personality. He’d take the swotty behavior over the bossiness any day.


	6. Chapter 6

One might wonder how much information a wizard can cram inside his head before it feels like it will implode. It’s been a week since their arrival to the Granger’s vacation home, and Theo has already been having the time of his life. Sure, he feels like he’s on sensory overload with the overwhelming amount of things he needs to learn, but this is the first time Theo has felt free.

On their first night, Draco and himself went with Granger to buy pizza, which is still a major novelty to those of the group who grew up with nothing short of a fancy meal every evening. The concept of their being delivered food is baffling, yet awe inspiring at the same time. For Theo, he grew up with house elves who were hard pressed to learn a new recipe. While their food was great, it doesn’t compare to having meals delivered to the front door. Especially the different food from other cultures. He’s never been happier than when he heard that he didn’t have to travel thousands of miles to get Chinese food. Blaise was especially ecstatic to have Italian food, even if it wasn’t as good as his grandmothers.

His favorite part of the Muggle World is the diversity, which is something the Wizarding World is severely lacking. During their outing to buy Muggle clothes, Theo couldn’t believe how easily all of them blended into the crowd. No one spared them a suspicious glance, even with them floundering in this new world. When Theo couldn’t properly count money when he payed for his purchases, the man running the till barely gave him any sympathy.

There are so many new things to learn about, and Theo’s mind was already struggling to keep up.

Hermione is truly a gift from the gods. Where he might have gotten impatient having to teach someone all the different aspects of Muggle living, she was able to coach them through it without making them seem ignorant. It was one more thing to add to the things he admires her for.

It’s taken a week, but it’s to the point where everyone is starting to become comfortable around each other. He’s gotten to learn more about his peers and make friends with the most unlikely people. Neville is perhaps the most down to earth wizard that Theo’s ever met and Luna is a puzzle that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to solve. The most surprising is his growing friendship with Potter, much to Draco’s dismay. It became clear early on that the Slytherins missed out on a lot by sticking to being outsiders.

The Boy Who Lived is not the legendary wizard like many of their kin believe. He hasn’t learned much about Harry’s life, but it’s clear that he was just as unprepared for his role in the world as any of them.

Hermione Granger is the biggest conundrum out of them all.

When he thought of her name back in Hogwarts, his mind would be filled with pictures of bushy hair, upturned noses and arms full with stacks of books.

Now his mind conjures images of wild curls and fire eyes that could cut through his soul. She’s full of the self-assurance and confidence that she lacked in her younger years. Even the way she walks is filled with the type of deadly grace that can drive a man wild. Himself included.

While she’s been nothing but helpful, Theo can tell that she’s keeping herself at a distance. Not that he can blame her for that considering the way she was treated by him and his friends in the past. Theo thought that they built a connection on their first day, though. They bonded over mutual intellectual interests. He’s willing to bet his entire collection of ancient potion books that she felt it as well. For some reason she’s pulling back, and Theo wants to know why that is.

Harry reassured him that she’s been the same way with everyone ever since the war ended, but he couldn’t find it within him to believe it. Not with the way her and that Dean Thomas bloke were cuddling up to each other.

It’s probably a good thing he’s not able to use magic, because if he had his wand, Thomas would be on the receiving side of it for daring to touch his future wife that way.

Think of the bastard and he shall appear.

“My darling witches and trusty wizards, gather ‘round!” Dean yells, catching everyone's attention. “It’s Saturday night, and there is no way in hell that we’re going to sit around while we have plenty of options for a night out.”

Hermione perks up from her reading chair. She looks over to Dean with raised eyebrows. “If you’re going to say what I think you’re about to...I’m totally in!”

“It’s time for you all to get gussied up. We’ll be going out to the club tonight. If you’re tired of beer that tastes like piss,” he gives a pointed look at Hermione, “Then get ready, because you’re about to get a taste of the good stuff.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Buy the wrong beer once, and you’ll never let me live it down.”

“It’s not so much about buying the wrong beer, but you’re vicious guarding of the alcohol cabinet.”

Theo nearly shudders as he remembers the beating that Hermione dished out the last time someone tried to touch her Bourbon and Scotch. Weasley couldn’t walk straight for two days after that incident. Although, Theo’s sure she learned her lesson as well. Next time she won’t aim for the legs or arms when she beats him because everyone has had to deal with his whining about not being able to walk.

She scowls with impressive results. Weasley recoils as if expecting another bout of punishment, and everyone scoots back in their seats. “Nobody touches the liquor cabinet without my say so.”

This makes Theo feel special for a moment. While she guards her alcohol from her closest friends, she was willing to sit down and share a glass with him. He can barely hold himself back from preening. All of his instincts are telling him to gloat, but he puts a stop to it before he can ruin anything.

While everyone seems scared of her, Dean only rolls his eyes as if this is something he’s used to. Theo wants to punch him.

“Yes, yes,” he says impatiently. “Next time someone tries it they will lose a finger. We got you.”

“Stop flirting and get on with it,” Pansy yells at them.

Hermione gags a little before giving Pansy the middle finger. Another impressive way that Muggles have learned to express themselves. It’s a gesture that Draco was more than happy to pick up on. Theo feels uneasy about who his friend will use it on when they go back home. While most of the witches and wizards won’t know what it means, he won’t be eager for the backlash if they find out.

Dean scoffs at Pansy in disgust. “If that’s your impression of flirting, then I feel bad for you. Maybe some poor bloke will take some pity on you and show you what flirting really looks like tonight.”

“Like I’d ever touch a filthy Muggle.” she spits out with a venomous glare on her pug-like face, “I may be forced to tolerate your less than cultured company, but I’d never sink so low as to roll around with the animals.”

Magic spiked and swirled throughout the room with furious need to _destroy_. It’s an overwhelming feeling considering they haven’t been around magic for a week now. He straightens while chills run down his spine. Looking towards the source of the torrent of magic, he has to hold back the involuntary shiver of intrigue. Hermione is standing where she was once relaxed in her seat. Wild curls crackling with retrained magic and glaring eyes consume his vision. The murderous look in her eyes is enough to warn Pansy that she’s just stepped on _very_ thin ground. Merlin, she looks beautiful like this. It reminds him of seeing her on the battlefield, tearing through Death Eaters like they’re nothing but a nuisance keeping her away from her end goal.

“Let’s make one thing clear right now, Parkinson. I’ve had to deal with your holier than thou bullshite this entire week, and I’ve said nothing, but the moment that you bring your Pure-blood prejudices into it is the last straw. Those ‘Filthy Muggles’ as you call them have provided you with everything since you’ve stepped out of that magical barrier, and I’d be more than happy to take all of that away.”

Pansy eyes her with distaste, but you can see the underlying fear. “I will say what I want, when I want. I don’t need to tolerate any of this.”

Hermione throws her head back and laughs, Dean joining in with mischievous glee. “You think what you want, Parkinson. The door is right there. Feel free to walk your arse back to the ministry and tell them all about how you couldn’t handle something so simple as living like a Muggle. You won’t be able to graduate with your N.E.W.T.s. The poor bastard that’s no doubt tied to you in a magical betrothal won’t even want you after that.”

“Doubt he’s ever wanted her anyway. He’d probably use it as an excuse to break the contract. Access to the Parkinson vaults aren’t worth the trouble.” Dean says to the curly haired witch, his jaw clenched with the effort to hold back his anger at the snake.

Theo didn’t know whether to be turned on or apprehensive at this point. Has she always been this malicious, or is it payback for all the years that Pansy tormented her?

Hermione dismisses him with a single glance, still worked up with her tirade. She seems to deflate a little bit, her shoulders rising and falling with the breaths she takes to calm herself down. She sits down and looks straight at Pansy. There is a flat look in her eyes that reminds him of Occlumency. Is it possible that she’s pushing her emotions behind a mental barrier?

“This kind of talk may have been tolerated where you come from, but I will not sit around and listen to you disregard and tarnish my family and the place we hail from. You’re either here to stay and learn or you can march your prejudice arse back with nothing but the clothes on your back. Good luck finding your way back on your own without a wand.”

Pansy looks like she’s about to protest, but she looks to Justin instead, hoping to find some type of sympathy. Justin looks away with his own face red in anger and embarrassment. He may have been raised to be a gentleman, but going against Hermione would mean that he is condoning Pansy’s behavior. It’s about time someone said something to her. Pansy has taken it upon herself to insult where the Muggle-born’s come from, and it’s not okay. Especially when they just fought a war for their rights to belong. She didn’t have the rights of her own to step into their world and continue to spout her Pure-blood propaganda.

“You’re on your own. I tried warning you, but you didn’t listen. I may take what you say lightly, but those who fought so hard against your line of thinking will not stand by and let you get away with it.” Justin tells her with his head still turned away. Theo was sure he made progress with the Slytherin girls, but this proves that he’s not gotten as far as he’s hoped.

“Whatever.” Pansy scoffs, trying to save face with everyone staring at her, “Thomas provokes me and none of you say anything, but I say one thing wrong and you’re jumping down my throat.”

Theo shares a surprised look with Draco and Blaise once everyone settles down. The three of them know that Granger has a vengeful streak in her, but none of them have seen her that particularly vicious. The look in her eyes when she was chewing Pansy out was one of pleasure. She enjoyed putting her on the spot. If nothing else, this entire incident teaches them to be careful and not have a slip of the tongue with their old way of thinking.

* * *

“Well that was eventful,” Theo comments to his mates while waiting on the witches to be ready for the club. “I don’t think I’ve seen her look so dangerous outside of the battlefield.”

Blaise doesn't look surprised, much to his consternation. “You weren’t there when she caught Crabbe and Goyle giving Colin Creevey trouble for being a Muggle-born.”

He can only imagine the backlash those two faced from the feisty witch.

“Yeah, that was nothing in comparison,” Draco shudders. “Those two couldn’t look at her without fainting for weeks. We were smart and hid while letting the two of them take the fall for it.”

This is catching his interest. “What’d she do to them?”

A strangled sound escapes Draco’s throat. “She asked if she could borrow the kids camera before she got the two of them in a Full Body-Bind curse. While they were bound, she pulled down their pants and took a picture of their pricks. She then went on to tell them if she caught them doing it again, she’d have the pictures sent to an unsuspecting third year and they’d be coined as pedophiles for the rest of their lives.”

“Merlin,” Theo breathes in respectful awe. “That's brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant.”

“That is one example of many reasons why you should never trifle with the witch,” A solemn voice sounds from behind them.

“Potter,” Draco greets stiffly. “Didn’t know you were lurking around.”

“Sorry,” Harry voices, sounding anything but apologetic. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I was just coming out here to wait on the girls. Think they’ll be ready anytime soon?”

“Cut it out with the small talk. I want to hear more about the wonderful Miss Granger and her vindictive streak,” Blaise speaks with unrestrained interest.

“She wouldn’t have actually sent the pictures, just so you know. She would’ve never subjected a third year to that kind of nightmare.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Blaise coaxes. “Why don’t you tell me about what happened to Umbridge? Draco told me that she led her into a trap somehow, but that’s all I heard.”

Harry looks pale with anxiety when that particular incident is brought into question. “Let’s just say that Umbridge spent a lot of time in the mental ward at St. Mungo’s. The words ‘centaur’ and ‘acromantula’ are particular trigger words for screaming and hysterics.”

Theo cringes. From what he remembers, Umbridge has a very high pitched voice. Her screaming and hysterics is something he can live without hearing.

“How does it feel to have such a dedicated friend? Must be intimidating having someone willing to go to such lengths for you,” Draco asks sarcastically with a hint of genuine curiosity.

“No kidding,” Blaise breaths out with uneasiness. “I’ve never had to be that cunning before and I’m in Slytherin house, for Merlin’s sake!”

Harry shrugs uncomfortably and fiddles with his glasses. “I’ve had a long time to get used to it. In first year she lit Professor Snape on fire at a Quidditch game because she thought it was him who was cursing my broom.”

The three Slytherins share a laugh, remembering the tirade Snape went on when everyone got back to the common room. None of them had seen him so angry in that first year. They learned quickly to tiptoe around him so as not to attract his anger.

They spent the rest of their time chatting about their favorite memories of Snape. Gradually, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ron and Justin joined the conversation. Poor Neville looked like he was reliving his worst nightmare.

As focused on their conversation as they are, they don’t notice the witches arrival until Pansy clears her throat loudly from where she stands at the top of the staircase. The group of wizards look up as one and dismiss her with barely a glance, as if the whole spectacle was rehearsed before hand. She’s wearing a generic black dress that hugs her curves. There’s nothing wrong with the dress, but there’s nothing special about it either. Surrounded by the other witches in color, the black of her attire is easily to look past.

Theo hears Draco and Blaise take a sharp breath and figures that there is only one witch that could cause such a reaction from either of them.

His eyes seek her out without conscious thought. When they land on her, he has to do everything in his power to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. She’s always been an attractive witch in his eyes, but this only solidifies that fact.

He wants to shout to the gods and thank them for the gift that they’ve so kindly bestowed on the undeserving world. If he wasn’t sure his friends were thinking the same thing, he’s sure they’d call him out on being dramatic.

She’s wearing her hair as usual, but it’s got the just-got-shagged look. That coupled with the smokey eyes and clear lip gloss makes her look alarmingly sensual. He’s debating whether or not he should just give up and blind every man in the room so they won’t look at the witch, because obviously none of them are worthy of such a sight.

The crimson red dress is sinful in so many ways. The material clings to every part of her body that it touches. Compared to the other witches, her dress is more classy, but it makes her look more sexy than anybody he’s ever seen. The long sleeved dress dips alarmingly low in the front, showing off her generous cleavage. It remains tight around her waist, arse and legs before it ends mid-thigh.

As she turns around, the curve of her bum calls his attention like nothing else. Theo has never seen clothes that fit like this. He’s used to seeing Muggle clothes such as jeans and jumpers, but this dress had to have been made in the mind of woman looking to have a wild night.

His breath continues to stutter in his chest as he continues his perusal. If someone tried talking to him at this moment, he’s not sure that he could manage words.

Theo brings his fisted hand up to his mouth, using his knuckles to muffle the groan trying to escape.

 _Sweet Merlin and Morgana,_ he’s sure he’s just found new material for his fantasies.

The black heels she’s wearing complete her attire with a perfect touch.

They’re nothing like the modest heels the witches have to wear at Hogwarts.

The spiked bottom of the heels look thin and dangerous, and he’d love to have them wrapped around his back or tossed over his shoulders as he drove into her, over and over again. He would love to bend her over the banister she’s leaning on, hike up her dress and take advantage of the angle the heels so graciously provide.

The sharp jab to his side brings him back from the delicious direction his mind was wandering.

“If you keep looking at her like that, she’s going to catch on fire,” Neville’s teasing voice sounds from his spot next to Theo.

He grunts, showing his displeasure with the interruption. “Honestly, I don’t think she can get any hotter.”

Neville laughs heartily, but Theo notices his eyes hardly leave Susan Bones. The witch is looking gorgeous in her modest purple dress. If there’s anything that Theo’s learned about Neville over the week, the witch is definitely his type. Even though Blaise claimed early on that he was going to try to hook up with the witch, he never took the chance. She’s fair game for Neville.

Even though he’s taken his sweet time giving Hermione the attention she deserves in that dress, he wants to rip Weasley a new one for daring to look at her that way. The wizard looks like he’s drooling. He’ll let his two friends get away with it though. It’s not like he can call them out on it. He’d be a hypocrite otherwise. It's just the thought of Weasley's or Thomas's eyes on her that makes him want to rip their eyes out.

“She’s a vision, isn’t she?” he murmurs to them. “I can’t take my eyes off of the witch.”

“Most definitely, mate.” Blaise replies with a awed hush in his voice, “I’ve never claimed you have bad taste in woman.”

Draco keeps a straight face, but the heated look in his eyes give him away. “I take it back. I was completely serious when I told you I wanted her as the next Malfoy matriarch. Watch out, Theo.”

Theo cracks a smile at his friends before turning to watch Hermione walk down the stairs. She’s taking her time walking down the stairs, mindful of the shoes she’s wearing. When she looks straight at him, he feels his heart lodge in his throat. She sweeps her eyes up and down his body, and he can see the approval shining from her irises. Dressed in dark denim jeans and a silver button down shirt, he’s not sure he looks as delectable as her, but he won’t protest having her eyes on him.

“Theo,” she murmurs to him in greeting, squeezing his bicep briefly. “You look great.”

Theo tries to form a coherent sentence - really, he does - but the witch has his tongue tied in knots, so he can barely manage his own compliment. “You’re the envy of every woman in this place tonight, Granger.”

Hermione smiles sweetly, her eyes warming considerably when she looks at him. In thanks, she bumps her shoulder against his. “You ready to see how Muggles party?”

“I’d enjoy nothing more,” he replies honestly. There’s no way he’d miss an opportunity to enjoy her presence, especially when she’s dressed like a goddess. “Where are we going exactly?”

He grabs her arm and links her elbow through his while he escorts her out of the front door. “We’re going to a club called Tryst. There will be lots of dancing and alcohol. From what Dean was telling me earlier, there’s a DJ coming tonight to play their music.”

He tries to hold in his scowl at the mention of the Gryffindor's name, but finds it difficult.

“Why don’t you tell me what a DJ is on the way?” He asks as he opens the drivers door for her. He makes a mental note to learn how to drive soon so she doesn’t have to haul them everywhere.

Completely ignorant of the envious glares aimed at his back, Theo walks to the passenger side of the vehicle, eager to continue his conversation with the witch.

Draco and Blaise share the same sentiment when they climb in the back seat of the car. “What a lucky bastard.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that there's not much interaction between Hermione and the Slytherin trio in this chapter! I'm hoping next chapter will make up for it. I'm going to start working on it right away after this chapter is posted. 
> 
> Let me know what you think everyone. Are my characters acting too OOC? 
> 
> I want to be realistic, but I also want to take into account that war changes everyone, and it's not always for the good.


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as they enter the building, all of their senses are hit with brutal efficiency. The music is loud and the neon coloured lights are blinding. Not to mention, the smell of alcohol permeates the air, overriding the smell of cheap perfume.

The crowd of people at the bar look over at the group as they enter through the heavy metal door, but soon go back to their own conversation. Blaise can’t help but marvel at how the eyes of many seem to slide right past them. If this is what anonymity feels like, he wants to experience it for the rest of his life. There’s no judging eyes - just appreciative gazes.

When they left the house, Blaise felt a little overdressed, but Dean assured them that just because it was a small town in the middle of nowhere, the club still gets busy. He also mentioned something about it being a tourist town for those wanting to get away in the mountains, which Blaise can respect.

Looking around to the people in the club, he’s ready to admit that they aren’t overdressed at all. The woman are dressed to impress, and the men are wearing even more gaudy outfits than the rest of the group.

Hermione and Dean weave their way through the crowd as if it’s their second home. Some people give friendly waves and the witch gets stopped by more than one person to exchange cheek kisses and hugs of greeting. This makes Blaise wonder how much time the witch has spent in this particular club. Even Dean exchanges hand shakes with random people. From what he remembers, this town is the Granger vacation spot, but that brings up more questions than answers.

After several minutes have passed, Hermione leads them up to the bar and raps her knuckles against the marble tabletop to catch the bartender's attention. The bloke turns around with a huge smile on his face, showing pearly white teeth. He runs his hands through his hair to mess it up while he eyes Hermione like she’s something delicious that he wants to taste. Blaise ignores the growling coming from his right and watches the exchange with interest. No one can blame him for being curious on how the Gryffindor Princess will handle an encounter that involves flirting.

If he was expecting her to blush and stutter, he would be wrong. Hermione leans against the bar and puts on a charming smile to match the bartender. Her eyes rake him up and down, and Blaise suddenly realizes that there’s an appreciative glint in her eyes. His stomach squirms in disbelief as he sees how receptive the witch is to the bloke's charm.

The bartender tosses the hand towel over his shoulder with ease that would make most men jealous. If that wasn’t enough, the bartender crosses his arms and leans right in front of Hermione before speaking. “What can I get for you, sweetheart?”

Blaise can see that the Weaslette is swooning with the power of this guy’s game, even if it’s not aimed directly at her. He can admit that the bartender is a good looking bloke, but he didn’t expect Granger - of all people - to fall for his charms.

Granger looks back at the group with assessing eyes before replying. “We’ll start with your best lager for the guys, and the ladies here will have some cider.”

The bartender smirks, “And here I thought you’d ask for some Sex on The Beach.”

“If I’m tipsy enough, you can ask me later.”

Blaise gapes incredulously as the witch winks at the man before turning her back to him. Catching the hint, the bartender rushes to get their drinks, but not before discreetly pumping his fist in victory.

Dean laughs lightly at the looks Hermione is getting from the group.

“It’s a name for a drink, you tossers.” Dean states with amusement coloring his tone.

“Yeah,” Hermione agrees with a roll of her eyes, “Like I would be so forward without him buying me a drink first.”

“‘Mione!” Harry sputters with bemusement.

She winks at him. “Just joking, Harry. Never thought I’d be the one saying this, but you’ve got to lighten up!”

His eyes go wide before he laughs at the witch. “That’s one hell of a role reversal.”

After the bartender gives them their drinks, Hermione leads them to a long table at the side of the dance floor. Taking a seat, Blaise takes a sip of the bitter liquid and observes the dancing with something akin to shock. He always knew that Muggles are looser in the way they act, but it’s another thing altogether to witness it. No witch or wizard would be caught dead dancing like that in Wizarding Britain. The way that the dancing partners rub up against each other can be viewed two different ways. First, it’s incredibly sensual with the way they get lost in the music together. Secondly, it can be viewed as something to cringe over because of its lack of propriety.

“This is pretty good.” Draco says as he drinks out of the glass, mindful of the foam, “Not sweet like Butterbeer.”

“Hermione mentioned that they don’t sell a lot of sweet alcohol in the Muggle World.” Theo tells them enthusiastically, “Most of it is beer or hard alcohol such as Whiskey. You can mix drinks with different sodas or juices to take away the bitter taste from the stronger alcohol.”

“Fascinating.” he rolls his eyes, “Tell us more.”

Theo scrunches his face up at him. “No need to be a wanker, Draco. “

Blaise turns his head away from the bickering pair and focuses on the witch of the evening. That dress really does make her look stunning. She could afford to gain some weight to make up for what she lost during the war, but the dress makes all of her curves pop. The colour red would normally send him turning away due to its connection with Gryffindors, but he can make an exception for the witch who shines in the colour.

When she first walked down those stairs, his breath was nearly ripped from his lungs.

If he weren’t so worried about it making his life difficult for the rest of the month, he would’ve let her know exactly what he thought right then and there. It’s unlikely she would be welcome to his advances anyhow. Although Theo may seem to be smitten with the witch, Blaise is afraid to tell him that he probably doesn’t stand a chance.

Sure, the witches and wizards in their group may put on a bright face and act like they forgot all of the things the Slytherins did in the past, but he knew better. That many years of built up hatred won’t go away so quickly.

Hermione Granger has dealt with too much of their shite in the past to ever be able to forgive and forget, but he won’t be the one to break that news to Theo.

“Come on, Luna!” Hermione exclaims happily while holding her hand out towards her friend, “Have Harry watch your drink and come dance with me.”

The pretty blonde passes her drink over to the wizard and follows Hermione onto the dance floor. While Luna isn’t as striking as Hermione in her dress, she still looks lovely. The pale pink colour clashes with the yellow of her heels, but it fits her personality perfectly. The radishes on her earrings give her outfit its own personal touch. Now that he thinks of it, Blaise isn’t sure that he’s ever seen the witch without those earrings on.

The rest of the witches get up and follow while leaving their drinks behind, but not before sending inviting glances back to the table.

Daphne Greengrass has her eyes solely on him as she beckons him to dance with her, which he dismisses with a sneer. He doesn’t know why the witch can’t take a hint, for Merlin’s sake. It’s progressed to straight hostility, and she still can’t accept that he isn’t into her. She’s a gorgeous witch, Blaise grants, but her looks can’t cover up the crazy personality hiding behind designer robes and expensive jewelry. 

“Look at the way they follow her every move,” Theo states while watching the witches dance to the music. You can see the amusement in his eyes, but they are mainly focused on the curly headed witch swaying her hips to the beat.

Blaise hums in agreement after observing the way that the witches surround her, trying to copy the way she dances. “They know that in this world she’s the Queen and they are nothing but her peasants.”

“I think Granger is the Queen no matter what world she’s in.” Draco voices his own opinion. “They may call her the Gryffindor Princess, but she has them all by the bollocks. That's deserving enough for a higher title.”

“Quite right, Draco. The witch could rule the world if she wanted to.” he says to his friend, thinking back to the fury burning in her eyes as she took one Death Eater down after the other.

Blaise knows that his best mate has conflicting feelings for the witch. There was a reason for all the childhood grudges when they were nothing but first years. The witch had gained the respect of the blonde wizard when she passed through all of her courses without a sweat. It’s a shame that all of the Slytherins were restricted so much socially. While Blaise was able to explore relationships with those of - so called - lesser blood, his mates didn’t have the same freedom. While Blaise never had such a strong fixation of the witch, he can see the appeal. She’s brilliant, beautiful and brave. There’s no faking in her interactions with others and she tells it how it is. Hearing about her vindictive side certainly has its own merits as well.

Coming from a family of strong woman who never bow down to the men in the family, Blaise can respect the witches ability of being independent. It’s definitely a turn on.

The other men in the club must feel the same with the way they are watching her. One man gets particularly brave and circles her waist with his arm. Ignoring her glare to back off, the man gyrates against her with zero finesse. Luna shouts something over the music, and the rest of the girls slide to the edge of the dance floor. Whatever she said to them must have scared them off, because they look around at the other dancers with panicked eyes. Luna makes eye contact with Blaise and raises her eyebrows, showing that the witch is much more astute than others may think.

“Well, gentlemen.” Blaise stands and straightens his shirt out, “It’s been nice chatting with you, but I’m off to save a pretty witch.”

“Blaise, don’t you dare!” Theo scolds him with vigorous hand waving.

Ignoring the shouting from his friends, Blaise makes his way onto the dance floor with a smooth stride. Although he’s never danced in such a way, he’s confident that he’ll be good at it. Hermione won’t have to worry about him dancing like the man currently thrusting against her with sloppy hip movements. Seduction is in his blood, and Italians are nothing if not sensual. Romancing a woman is second nature to him, and he is not one to disappoint.

Blaise buttons up his sleeves before he pulls the man away from the struggling witch. “Are you being bothered, _mia cara_?”

Hermione looks shocked before she recovers. She wipes her hands down the front of her dress while sending a disgusted look towards the man who had the nerve to deny her demands to release her. “I was. It seems like this man doesn’t know what the word ‘no’ means. I was just telling him what would happen if he didn’t release me immediately.”

“And he still didn’t listen?” Blaise asks with raised brows, his hand tightening on the back of the man’s neck. Struggling to control his temper, Blaise turns to the man with a venomous glare. “I’d leave if I were you. If not, there is a table full of men waiting to defend her honour.”

The man scoffs and wavers, showing how inebriated he is. He looks over to the table that contains the glaring wizards and promptly pales. “Whatever, man. You can keep her. ‘S not like she was gonna put out anyways.”

Blaise shoves the drunk hard enough to make him stumble, but not enough to knock him to the ground. Blaise throws him a disgusted look and ignores the catcalls from the surrounding dancers. He hopes that the man will get kicked out for the disgraceful act he just managed to pull in front of all these people.

He holds out his hand to Hermione in his own attempt to get her to dance. “Will you do me the honour?”

“Why not,” she shrugs and takes his hand reluctantly. “Who would say no to the man who so gallantly saved the damsel in distress?”

He spins her around and brings her close to his chest, mimicking the sway of her hips to the beat of the music. He brings his mouth close to her ear to respond to her. “I don’t think you could ever be considered a damsel, Miss Granger.”

He ignores the goosebumps trailing up her arms for his own sanity. If he knew that their proximity was affecting her, he’s sure that there would be problems with how close she’s pressed up against him. He doesn’t want to risk scaring her off if his physical attraction makes itself known.

“It’s a good thing you’ve figured that out now.” she says calmly as she continues to move her hips against his, “I wouldn’t want to prove that to you the hard way.”

His hands roam over her toned abdomen and he marvels at the feeling. She looks great at a distance, but having her up close is almost too much to handle. A wizard only has so much self-control, and he’s beginning to think that if he continues down the direction he’s going, he’s going to lose it completely. “Never. I recognize a strong witch when I see one, and no one’s ever claimed that Hermione Granger doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“You flatter me, Zabini.” she spins around and locks her arms around his neck, never breaking their rhythm. “Now why don’t you tell me why you’re laying it on so thick?”

“I’m not surprised that you think I’m coming on to you too strong, _mia cara_. Not with the company you keep. I’m simply commending you on your ability to look after yourself.”

She hums and looks at him with calculating eyes. “The company I keep don’t want to get in my knickers.”

Blaise almost sputters at the bold statement, but instead he clears his throat pointedly. The witch certainly has fire. He can’t decide if it’s liquid courage or not. She’s only finished about half of her drink, so it can’t be that. Maybe she’s just messing with him for her own amusement. Yes, that must be it.

“Sorry to tell you, but if they say they don’t want in your knickers, they’re lying.”

She smiles with amusement, her eyes crinkling around the corners. “Whatever you say, Zabini.”

Blaise looks over her shoulder to the table where the group is sitting. The other witches are still dancing after finding their own partners. Astoria, Daphne and Pansy managed to drag some unsuspecting muggle to dance with them. It seems that Hermione’s words from earlier managed to reach Pansy. She doesn’t look as disgusted to be close to the Muggle as she should be. It’s likely that she’s just eating up all the attention that she can get. It’s not like many wizards afforded her with appreciative glances in the Wizarding World. Not after the world figured out that she almost succeeded in getting Potter killed. 

Luna was lucky enough to drag Potter to the dance floor. They looked a little ridiculous considering that they weren’t swaying to the beat. It seems like Luna is dancing to her own imaginary music with the way she was waltzing around with Potter. Blaise can hardly hold in his amused smile.

The rest of the blokes sit at the table alternating between chatting with each other and pounding their drinks. The Weasley duo are looking especially irate. The Wealette is glaring at Luna as if she’s done something personally wrong, which isn't surprising with the way she’s been panting after Potter. Ron looks like he could murder Blaise in cold blood without a single regret, which again isn’t surprising in the least.

Theo and Draco sneak furtive glances in their direction, not wanting to give away to the rest of the table exactly how much his dancing with Hermione irks them.

Blaise smirks before deciding to taunt them a little bit. “Weasley is looking over here with chaos in his eyes. Want to give him a show?”

She doesn’t need to know that he’ll use the opportunity to fuck with his mates as well.

Hermione directs them in a circle before taking a peak over his shoulder to where the redhead is brooding. Attempting to look nonchalant, she nods her head decisively. “Show me what you’ve got, _caro_.”

Blaise does little to hide his surprise at her use of the Italian term of endearment. Really, he should’ve known that the woman would know Italian. “You speak my language?”

She crinkles her nose endearingly. “Yes, I speak Italian and French fluently.”

“Impressive,” he practically purrs. She should’ve never told him that she could speak his language. He was having issues with his restraint already. “Now why don’t we show Weasley what he’s missing?”

“It’s not so much of showing him what he’s missing, but showing him what he can’t have,” she retorts with a smirk. “I’ll follow your lead.”

The audience and flashing lights practically disappear as soon as her words register. All that’s left is the music and her body flush against his. He spins her around so she’s facing away from him and settles his hands low on her thighs. He pulls her closer and trails his fingers teasingly up her sides until they settle on her arms. With his hands in position, he links his fingers through hers and brings them up to wrap around his neck.

The bass from the music pulses through his entire body and he lets his body sway naturally to the sensual beat. Hermione tosses her head back and rests it on his shoulder, giving him the perfect view of the graceful curve of her neck. Sweat beads on her chest before it leaves an enticing trail down her cleavage making his mind conjure its own images of her pressed against him without an inch of clothing, chest heaving from the pleasure he brings her. He lets go of her hands and trails his own down her arms slowly until they settle under her breasts.

The sexual tension is almost unbearable, and he hopes that he’s not the only one that feels it. Judging by the bold movements of her grinding, he’s sure that she can feel it as well.

He may be the only one of his friends who hasn’t interacted with her much, but there’s no denying the spark of attraction. He doesn’t need an hour long conversation on the merits of Muggle alcohol to know it.

Blaise knows that he should pull away now, especially since he only suggested this as a way to get to his friends, but he feels enchanted by their movements together. They’re in sync with the way they move together, never missing a beat. He figures he should take advantage of his position while he still can.

So while he resists the urge to run his lips down the arch of her neck, he decides to ignore the small voice in his head yelling that this is a bad idea.

He settles his hands on her hips and guides her movements until they’re molded together completely. She shudders when she feels the length of him pressed up against her.

_A very bad idea, indeed._

* * *

Ronald Weasley is seething with rage watching _his_ witch rub up against that Death Eater scum like a cat in heat. Couldn’t she see that he is sitting right here? Why couldn’t she drag him out onto the dance floor and show him the same courtesy?

It’s been an entire year since he’s been trying to charm his way into her bed, and the prudish bookworm wouldn’t let up an inch. So much for the undying loyalty she promised him as a friend. Sure, she never said that she’d marry him, but that fantastic snog at the end of the battle spoke for itself!

He’s tried buying her books and flowers, even going as far as confessing his eternal love through letters! He knew that he was running out of time before he resorted to using love potions on the silly bint, but she managed to dodge every single attempt. His mother told him all about how she caught his father's attention, and he figured he’d try the same thing. It’s a shame that his ‘Mione remains blind to her feelings for him. Isn’t it obvious that she’s using that no name Slytherin to make him jealous?

The thought comforts him, so he sends one last seething glare towards the pair before turning back to the conversation going on around him. Ron will play along for now, but the witch will be his eventually. _However, it doesn’t have to be right away_ , he concedes as his eyes travel over Susan Bones’ generous curves. Might as well get his jollies in while he waits for ‘Mione to see that she belongs to him - and _him only_.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione adjusts her sunglasses right after she piles her long, unruly hair into a messy bun. It’s been a long time since she’s woken to a hangover, and every single time she swears to the gods that she’ll never drink again. Spoiler alert: She never lasts very long before she’s throwing caution to the wind and tossing back drinks with the same amount of fervor as before.

The steaming cup of tea sitting next to her proves to be the right drink to help settle her churning stomach, but her sunglasses do little to protect her eyes from the light.

The sun rests high in the sky and shines with a brightness that would put Dean’s smile to shame, and the wind blows through the clearing of the garden, providing relief from the warm temperature. The pleasantness of the weather is ruined by the company surrounding her.

She loves Harry and Dean with all her heart, but those two don’t know when to leave well enough alone. It doesn’t matter that they’re only looking out for her, she’s already beaten herself up for her actions at the club the night before, and she doesn’t need lecturing from anybody else. No one could be as harsh as a judger as herself, but she’ll allow the admonishments to keep coming her way. It’s better to tough it out than to deny them the chance to act like the mother hens that they are. If she decided to deny them, she’d have to deal with them following her around for days to watch her every move.

“Seriously, what in Merlin’s name were you thinking?” Dean asks in an exasperated tone. He stands there with a hand on his cocked hip, making him look two seconds away from _tsk-tsking_ her. All that’s missing is the wagging finger and pursed brows.

Hermione sighs long-sufferingly, sounding like a teenager who got caught sneaking out of her bedroom window to go have a nice snog with a boy that wears a leather jacket. “I don’t need this right now.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Harry expresses his words with frown and a tilt of his head. “Did you just say that you don’t need this right now? Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I was thinking last night when _you were all over Blaise Zabini!”_

“It was supposed to be our night out, and you had to go and ruin it. How was I supposed to have fun when I was worrying about you the entire time? Did you even think about what that would do to us? I passed up on dancing with _Seamus_ because I knew I’d have to keep an eye on you. And _don’t you dare_ roll your eyes at me! Just because you’re wearing sunglasses doesn’t mean that I can’t see it!” Dean exclaims wildly.

Harry eyes her disappointingly. “Hermione Jean, just because you cross your arms and look away, doesn’t mean you’re not in trouble. You can sit there and ignore us, or we can talk it out and move on to a more pleasant conversation.”

She rolls her eyes and grunts with dissatisfaction, never removing her eyes from the surrounding trees. It’s like they never let her get a word in when they yell at her, and they never listen to her. Don’t they want to hear her own side of the story? Did they have to be _so_ overprotective all the time?

“Does anyone else think that this is getting really weird?” Neville asks awkwardly from his seat next to Luna and Susan. Shifting in his chair, he makes the perfect picture of someone who would rather be anywhere else at the moment. “I just have this feeling that I should walk away and let them settle Hermione’s punishment in private as a family.”

Luna sighs dreamily. “Just think how much better we’d all have turned out if we had parents like them.”

“I’m not even going to get into that right now,” he replies to Luna with a pensive look on his face, “Gran’s discipline was never bad, but I’ve never seen a scolding quite like this one before.”

Susan tips her head to the side and observes the way Harry and Dean pace back and forth and toss their hands in the air while they lecture Hermione. “Yeah, this is something else alright. Auntie would have given up by now and sent me to my room.”

“What?!” Hermione yells with righteous indignation. “You can’t do that to me! That’s not fair!”

Susan feels the giggles approaching at the absurdness of it all. “Have they always been like this, Neville?”

“Yes, they have.” Neville admits and flushes red. “They rile each other up easily. If Hermione gets upset, they get upset. If Dean gets angry, Hermione’s hair starts crackling and fluffing up like a Pygmy Puff.”

“Fine!” Hermione bellows loudly, calling their attention back to the argument. “You want me to say it? He’s so fit, I want to climb his body like a goddamn tree. When I was dancing with him last night, my life flashed before my eyes, ‘cause honestly, he had my heart rate spiking so high I was sure I’d die of a heart attack. If I died at that moment, I’d die happy because I was sure I’d met an angel. His abs are so pronounced that I could bounce a galleon off of them. Shall I continue?”

“No!” Harry shakes his head and eyes her with something akin to revulsion. “That’s something you should keep to yourself, ‘Mione. Seriously, what made you think we’d want to know that?”

“Oh, honestly.” Hermione exclaims and throws her hands in the air with exasperation, “You wanted to know why I was acting the way I was last night, and I just told you! Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the answer!”

“You’re grounded!” Dean bellows as he uncovers his ears.

Harry nods his emphatically. “Grounded!”

“No, I’m not!” she yells back at them. “You have no right!”

“Oh, this is getting ridiculous.” Susan murmurs to Neville, who nods in return. “Who needs that television contraption when we have this as entertainment?”

“I’m finished with you two!” Hermione stands from her sitting position and storms off. She makes it half way back to the house before she turns back around to yell at the two wizards, “I’m really mad at you, but I don’t want you to worry, so I thought I’d let you know that I’m going to my room!”

“Fine!” Harry and Dean barked back with their hands on their hips.

Hermione tilts her head up to the sky and screeches. “Fine!”

Once she’s made it through her patio door, the two wizards walk to them and sit down on their chairs. Harry sighs with exhaustion. “That was nuts, wasn’t it?”

“I thought it was lovely, Harry.” Luna says in encouragement. “She’s very lucky to have the both of you looking out for her.”

“I just worry about her sometimes, you know?” he shakes his head disappointingly. “One day she’ll see that I’m just trying to support her in the only way I know how.”

“Just give her a few years and she’ll see that we’re only doing what’s best for her.” Dean runs his hands down his shirt and seems to be taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

“If you say so.”

Susan has to clamp her hands around the arms of the chair to keep herself from banging her hands against the table and erupting into laughter. Do they really not see how this situation looks to outsiders?

“We should go apologize to her, right?” Dean questions Harry uncertainty after a moment of silence.

“...Most definitely.”

* * *

After the apology session in her room, Hermione decided it was time to grow some bollocks and face the rest of the group. She knows it must’ve been a shock to see her act the way she was last night. It isn’t that she regrets it - quite the opposite, actually - she just wishes she would have contained her interaction with Blaise better. Maybe she could have taken him to the other end of the dance floor to conceal their dancing?

She meant what she said to her two favorite wizards. She had the time of her life dancing with Blaise. He’s no slouch in the dancing department, and the feeling of his body against hers set her heart galloping like a horse racing for the finish line. Just thinking about it has her all hot and bothered. When he spoke Italian to her, she couldn’t stop herself from fantasizing about getting whisked away to his home country. She wouldn’t complain if wine and grapes were involved in any way. Not at all.

In all seriousness, she wouldn’t have minded getting a chance to dance with her other two charges. Draco and Theo have certainly grown up. It’s clear to anyone with a working pair of eyes that all three of them are gorgeous. They’re bodies look like they could be chiseled out of marble and admired for the next thousand years. If modeling was a solid profession in the wizarding world, they’d be the first to get personal written letters with the request of their service.

She can go on and on about their appealing attributes but she won’t. It’s time for her to face the music.

Stepping into the living room, the conversation falls to a hush and the stares bear down on her like the weight of an entire boulder. Instead of running away like the coward she feels like, she walks to the couch where Blaise is sitting. He looks at her questioningly, but she can detect the heat hidden behind layers of politeness.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” she questions, but feels like hitting herself after. This doesn’t have to be awkward, but of course she has to go and make it doubly so. This is one of her - admittedly - many flaws.

He continues to look at her strangely but has the decency to shrug his shoulders in wary agreement. “The spot’s yours.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Blaise replies smoothly, obviously trying to not be awkward, “How’d you sleep?”

She felt like his question has some type of double meaning, but she’s not positive. All she knows is she doesn’t want to answer wrongly, so like an idiot she decides to do something about it. “I slept fine. Do you mind if I talk to you alone for a moment?”

He looks over to Draco and Theo for some type of silent advice. Getting nothing but a glare from Theo and a raised eyebrow from the blonde, Blaise stands and offers his hand to her. Taking his hand, he helps her stand gracefully. She walks ahead of him, eventually leading him to her room. As soon as he enters the room, she closes the door. It’s probably best for everyone that no one overhears.

She takes a deep breath and rubs her sweaty palms against her jeans before starting her apology. “I’m so sorry about last night, Blaise.”

“I don’t see what you’re apologizing for,” Blaise tilts his head questioningly. “If anything, it should be me apologizing. I approached you for a dance, not the other way around.”

Hermione fights the urge to blush and fidget where she stands. Instead, she brings up her fist to her mouth and clears her throat. “I’m not sorry for that. I’m sorry for what happened...after.”

Blaise suddenly drops the polite front and grins widely, showing off his pearly white teeth and delicious dimples. His ocean blue eyes glint with suppressed amusement. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember. You were pretty sloshed by the end of the night after all.”

“I can only wish I didn’t remember.” she cringes at the memories that surfaced when she woke up in the morning, “I debated just letting it go, but I couldn’t rightfully forgive myself if I didn’t apologize first.”

He chuckles heartily, showing that his walls are completely down. It’s nice to see his true emotions. They’re breathtaking. “It’s not a problem. Really. I would’ve loved to take you up on your offer if I knew you were sober enough to justify yourself in the morning.”

“It’s a good thing you rejected me. Honestly.” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly, “It would’ve been enough to send me in a panic if I woke up with you in my bed.”

“That’s what I thought,” he confirms with a smile that shows all the way to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. If I remember correctly, I told you to ask me again when you were sober.”

“No offense, but I think I’m going to pass on that.”

“None taken, _cara_.” Blaise says with honesty, “Promise to keep me in mind, though?”

Hearing the joking note in his voice, Hermione decides to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She would like that very, _very_ much. Too much if she’s honest with herself. “Slow down, Casanova.”

He winks at her suggestively. “I better get back in the living room before your two dads catch me sneaking out.”

Hermione covers her face and groans. Keeping one hand over her eyes, she points the other one at the door. “I’m not going to dignify that with a proper response. Get out of here.”

His chuckles get cut off by the door closing.

The two meddlesome wizards must have confronted Blaise at some point during the day. She’s going to kill them slowly. It wasn’t enough that they decided to lecture her, so they went after him?

If it was possible to die of embarrassment, Hermione’s sure she’d be long gone by now. Lights out. Not only did she make a move on Blaise last night, but her friends gave him the talk. To be honest she doesn’t remember much of the night before.

She remembers that after her and Blaise finished their dancing, they went back to the table to hang out with everyone and the drinks were plentiful. She danced some and flirted more as the night continued. The bartender asked if she wanted to leave with him at the end of his shift, and she tried making up an excuse on the spot. Her excuse happened to be that she planned on leaving with Blaise. The look on the wizards face had been priceless and by the time they arrived home, she asked him if he wanted to join her in her room. He rejected her gently and at the time it didn’t phase her in the least. She would never push herself on someone unwilling. Even if she’s intoxicated.

When she woke up this morning and recalled the events of the night before, she wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. She doesn’t want to question who could have overheard her coming onto Blaise. She’d rather pretend that it never happened in the first place. She just needed to get her apology out of the way so she can move on.

Being grateful doesn’t even cover what she feels now that she knew he wasn’t majorly affected by her misstep.

It’d be better if he had a shitty personality, but of course he has to be a gentleman. She could dismiss her crush for something shallow if she was only attracted to him physically, but now that she knows how he is as a person, it’s harder to shove away. She tries to reason with herself that she’s had bad luck with crushes in the past, but her traitorous heart continues to beat an unsteady rhythm.

So taking a deep breath, she admits to herself that she may have screwed up royally for allowing herself to invest herself emotionally when she swore to herself that she’d keep her distance from the three Slytherin men. Maybe Dean and Harry were right to question her sanity.

Hermione strips down to her bra and knickers before climbing under her blankets. She deserves a nap after gaining the courage to approach Blaise with an apology. She just hopes that the exhaustion she feels deep in her bones is enough to chase the nightmares away.

* * *

_Streaks of spell-fire are flying each and every direction as she crashes through the woods. The branches of the trees are cutting deep into her skin, but she won’t stop. She has to get to Harry. The thought motivates her to push her legs stronger and faster in order to escape the Avada Kedavra’s thrown her way._

_She’s not sure which Death Eater is approaching her from behind, but it doesn’t matter. The bright green lights of the death curse miss her by inches. She knows that if she hesitates or falters for one second, her life will be snuffed out before it ever truly began._

_Get to Harry and make sure he’s okay. If he doesn’t die at the end of Voldemort’s wand, it will be at the end of hers. She couldn’t believe that he’d sneak off and confront the bastard on his own. If his invisibility cloak wasn’t a priceless artifact, she’d destroy it herself._

_She ignores the burning in her side from the sectumsempra she took from the end of Bellatrix’s wand earlier in the battle. She doesn’t want to question how the witch knew the spell that Snape created, so she focuses on the task at hand. Get to Harry and help him fight his way through this shite storm._

_The bombarda aimed right next to her head shatters through a tree, causing the blast to ring through her head with deadly efficiency. She cries out in alarm, trying not to think what would happen if the spell had hit her. She ducks behind another tree, lifting herself onto the bottom branch. It’s clear that she won’t make it out by escaping on foot. She’ll have to confront them head on. There are multiple attackers and she has no back up, so she’ll have to come up with a quick and effective strategy that ends with her getting out of the situation alive and hopefully unharmed._

_Swinging herself up another branch, she watches as Dolohov and Greyback crash through the underbrush. It’s no wonder that they caught up to her fast. Greyback probably knows these woods like the back of his wand hand. His animal instincts won’t allow her to stay hidden for long, so she casts a smell suppressing charm and hold herself as still as possible. It won’t do much considering the werewolf's penchant for tracking._

_“You promised the Mudblood will be mine, Dolohov. I know you have a fixation with the witch, but she’s mine.”_

_“You’ll get her once I’m finished, wolf.”_

_“I’d be careful how you talk to me,” Greyback speaks with menace, sending chills down her arms. “It may not be a full moon, but I assure you my bite is just as effective.”_

_“Save your threats for those who are scared of you, mutt.”_

_If they keep going as they are, she may not have to fight them off at all. They may just kill each other off. That doesn’t stop her heart from beating uncontrollably. Out of all the Death Eaters, these two had to be the ones following her. No one has a bigger grudge on her besides Bellatrix, and she’d already fought of the crazy witch earlier. She thanks the gods that the witch is dead, but she knew that her fight was not over._

_Hermione has to remind herself that the person she is and the person she needs to be to survive are two very different things._

_With that said, she starts her upcoming battle by casting a killing curse at Greyback. She’d use the element of surprise by taking down the more difficult opponent. There’s the fact that if she gets disarmed, she’d rather brave what Dolohov has in store for her rather than that pedophile wolf. The streak of green aims true, crashing into Greyback with the force of a bludger, sending him crashing through the forest. She knows he won’t be getting back up again, so she tosses up a shielding charm to avoid the barrage of curses heading her way from the tip of Dolohov’s wand._

_“Just the right Mudblood I was looking for,” Dolohov sneers. “Why don’t you quit now? You won’t catch me off guard again.”_

_“I’m not about to give up. You seem to be particularly interested in taking me down, Dolohov. Ever wonder why? It’s because you couldn’t beat me when I was a young sixth year, isn’t it? What makes you think you can beat me now?” Hermione questions with genuine curiosity, even when she feels like her stomach is made of lead. She knows that it’s not a good idea to taunt him, but she wants to get him worked up so he makes a mistake._

_They circle each other warily, observing each other’s weaknesses. Neither of them are stupid enough to head straight into battle without the upper hand._

_“It looks like you have some intelligence after all. I never thought you had two brain cells to rub together,” she pokes at him, searching for her opening. “I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’d have tried to improve myself if I got taken down by a fifteen year old as well.”_

_“You know nothing, Mudblood.”_

_“Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood,” she rolls her eyes. “Clearly I spoke too soon. Repetitiveness is one of the many flaws in your society. That could be due to all the inbreeding.”_

_His face flushes red in anger, and Hermione knows that she’s got him where she wants him. Anger means emotions will get in the way, and he’ll eventually slip and make a mistake. The curses start flying, and she can feel the tainted magic swirling in the air. It has nothing on Bellatrix’s dark magic, but it’s still stained to the point of being irredeemable. She aims a well place sectumsempra at his wand arm, causing blood to spray. The blood splatters on her face, but she refuses to show her revulsion. The curse isn’t deep enough to take off his arm, but the river of blood shows she hit his veins._

_In her assessment of the damage, she misses the incoming crucio. She clenches her teeth in an attempt to hold in her screams. It’s not as painful as previous crucio’s she’s been exposed to, but it’s enough to make her blood run hot. She wants to curse herself for getting distracted, but can’t muster up enough energy to think of herself for long. All her focus returns to getting to Harry._

_He lifts the curse for a second before he casts another one. This one packs more power in it than the previous one. Her back arches with the pain, but she hold in her screams. If she can lie to Bellatrix during her torturing, she can hold in her screams in front of this piece of scum. She feels the sweat collecting over her skin and her muscles are bunching with the currents of agony sweeping through her entire body._

_“It’s time for your lesson, you filthy Mudblood.” Dolohov unzips his pants before he lowers himself over her prone body. Her mind goes blank with the realization of what’s going to happen to her, and as he pulls down her pants to force himself inside of her, there’s only one thought running through her mind._

_Please be alive, Harry._

* * *

The pounding on her bedroom door wakes her from her nightmare. She’s drenched in sweat and aftershocks rock her body, causing the bed to vibrate with the force. Her face pales when she realizes that someone must have heard her. This is the first time she’s gone to bed without having Harry laying next to her to keep the nightmares away. She pushes herself up into a sitting position before she jumps out of the bed to get her clothes back on.

“Granger?” The voice calls out. “You okay in there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if this chapter seems a little scatter-brained. I'm juiced up on two pots of coffee. Judge me all you want. Today's been an exhausting day! 
> 
> And if you tell me that I suck at angst, I'll say 'fight me, bro'. Just kidding, I'll...agree with you 100%. 
> 
> Ignore me, I'm frazzled as all hell. Enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

The sound of her broken whimpers drew him to her closed bedroom door. He’s been waiting for this to happen. He’s feared it since the moment that she put them into the room next door to her. The sound of her pained screams still echo in his head from the night she got tortured on the floor of his home, but these whimpers were filled with a desperation that made it feel like he’s been hit in the stomach.

When she was being tortured by his crazy aunt, she was able to fight the curse with the pent up urge to keep her her friends safe. The sounds she’s making in her bedroom remind him a lot of someone who couldn’t fight back at all, and was subjected to the most horror imaginable.

Draco debates on walking away and trying to forget this ever happened, but he would never forgive himself for it. Sure, he may be a shite person in general, but he’d never be able to walk away and look at her the same way, knowing he’d done nothing. For all he knows, she may be dreaming of her time in his home. It’s his duty to wake her up, but at the same time, she has Potter and Thomas to chase her night terror’s away. He’s been busy fighting his own, which Theo and Blaise have been a huge help with. Should he go get Potter, or should he grow the bollocks to wake her up on his own?

Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco walks up to her door and knocks. The whimpers cease immediately, but the silence is stifling. He hears her rustling with her blankets, and her feet bang against the floor. Suspecting that she’ll open the door to see who’s knocking, Draco calls out to her, knowing she’ll recognize his voice. It wouldn’t do any good for her to be surprised if she opened the door without knowing who it was, only to see the face of her past tormentor.

“Granger?” he asks apprehensively, “You okay in there?”

It may not be the most eloquent thing to say, but who can blame him? He wants to act normal so she can’t hear the uncertainty and sympathy lying beneath the surface. He knows that she would react just as badly if she detected any pity in his words and countenance. Merlin forbid he show any pity. He knows that she would react better to normalcy, just as he would. They are alike in so many ways. Both are trying to fight off nightmares. It’s too bad that they will never go away. For Draco, it’s penance for every awful thing he’s done. For Hermione, it’s the price she has to pay for playing the part she had in the war. He should know that the good guys suffer just the same as any human being.

The door opening startles him out of his depressing thoughts. He looks up to see Hermione standing there with a questioning look on her face. He takes a moment to observe her, and he fairly cringes at what he sees. Her hair is covered in sweat, and the dark bags under her eyes stick out with evidence of sleep deprivation. With a feeling of self loathing, he also notices the scar across her neck from when his aunt Bellatrix held the knife to her throat. He tries the hold back from the notable paling of his face. He’s built up his tolerance in his ability to look at her without hating himself, but this makes it even worse.

“I’m okay, Malfoy,” she tries to play it off. “I’m just having a little trouble sleeping with my hangover and all. Did you need something?”

He pauses when he notices that she’s not going to admit that she has a nightmare. “Just checking if you were okay. It sounded like you were in pain.”

“I’m not in any pain, unless you consider my pounding headache. Makes you wish we had some hangover potions lying around, right?”

He lets her have this impasse, knowing that it’s unlikely that she would appreciate him calling her out on her lies. It’s not like he has the right to push her on it. Like he mentioned before he pounded on her door, he would act normal as possible, so he raises his brow in question. “You should have thought about that before we left King’s Cross. We could have stocked up on potions and the Headmistress or the Ministry wouldn’t be able to say anything about it.”

“I don’t know about you, but I was more preoccupied with the fact that I’d have to take care of you lot,” she replies with a pointed look. “It’s not so easy to be responsible for people who know nothing of the world they’re being sentenced to.”

Draco holds back a smirk. “Careful, Granger. I wouldn’t say this is a sentencing when it’s more of a vacation. I’d take this over Azkaban any day.”

“Only you would think so, Malfoy,” Hermione says as she looks him up and down with an assessing gaze, trying to find something to taunt him with. “Aren’t you missing your designer robes by now?”

“Not even a little,” Draco smirks with amusement. “I’ve found that Muggle clothes give a more firm touch, if you know what I mean.”

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise before she glares at him with disgust. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“If you didn’t want to know, you wouldn’t of asked.”

“Some things should stay out of polite conversation. I don’t care to hear about how your bollocks are feeling more secure.”

“Oh, don’t be a prude, Granger,” Draco says with mirth, his eyes sparking with amusement. He loves working her up. When she glares like that, it reminds him of a kitten hissing. It’s too bad that he knows how hard she packs a punch. For a woman with such a small stature, she can knock a grown wizard on his ass. “It’s not a good look on you. You can’t tell me that you don’t like the feeling of having your trousers hug you like a second skin.”

“It feels normal to me, you wanker.” she pauses before she scrunches her nose in a most adorable fashion, “And I’m not a prude, but I’d rather not hear about anything in that general vicinity.”

The way that she waves her in front of his package causes him to snicker at her. “If I’m not mistaken, that makes you a prude, Granger. There’s no escaping it. Just accept your true nature.”

“If only everyone in the house thought the same as you,” she rolls her eyes and flops onto her bed with a groan. “They’re looking at me like I’m some evil seductress.”

He knows what she’s talking about. How could he not? Him and Theo hardly took their eyes off her and Blaise all night. As soon as they got back to the house, they both rounded on their dark friend, demanding answers as to what happened. It was a surprise to see how effortlessly she wrapped his friend around her little finger. At first he thought she was just harmlessly flirting with him, but once Blaise told them that she invited him into her bed at the end of the night, they knew it wasn’t harmless at all. Needless to say, things went haywire rather quickly. Theo blew up and claimed that he had no right, which Blaise’s response was that he had every right, but he still said no.

Draco raises his brow at her imperiously. “I wouldn’t say evil, but they’ve sure got the seductress part down to pat.”

“I already apologized to him, for Merlin’s sake,” she sputters with indignation. He looks down at her from the spot he’s standing, marveling how she seems to be comfortable with his presence in her bedroom. “It’s obvious that I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”

“Are you speaking of when you were dancing with him, or when you asked him to sleep with you?”

“Malfoy!” she yells at him, her face flushing red in embarrassment. “Can’t it be both?”

He finds it endearing the way she still rises up to her own defense, even when she knows she can’t win. He still scoffs at her nerve. “It can’t be both, you scandalous witch. You weren’t drinking that much on the dance floor. You’re only defense is that you could barely walk when we got back here last night. Do the words scarlet woman sound familiar to you?”

Her embarrassment turns into a fetching, angry flush. She puffs up like an angry kitten and sits up on her bed. The glare she send him could send a lesser man to their knees, but he remains unaffected. “That was unnecessary. No need to bring that up.”

How funny he found it when she received that howler during their fourth year. Weasley’s mother sure didn’t mince her words. At the time he was praising Parkinson on her article written by Rita Skeeter. The article mainly consisted the bashing of Granger, all the way from her hair to her choice in men.

Deciding he’s pushed his luck far enough, he raises his hands in surrender. That was the problem with him and Granger. Sometime they could successfully banter back and forth. The woman had loads of wit, but sometimes he stepped over the line. It has nothing to do with her blood or house affiliation. There’s just something about the witch that riles him up.

“In all seriousness, you shouldn’t worry about how they look at you. If I recall correctly, none of the girls were being conservative last night. It wasn’t just you. If we hadn’t stopped her, I’m sure Pansy would have taken that Muggle home if only to prove a point to you.”

She growls with annoyance, reminding him a fierce lioness. “The silly bint thinks that if she shags a Muggle, I’ll let her off the hook. I don’t think I was that harsh on her, but if she insults Muggles in my presence again, she’ll get a full taste of what it’s like to piss me off. I don’t need a wand to thoroughly show her, mind you.”

Draco was never particularly fond of Pansy and her posse of Pureblood Princesses, but snakes look out for each other. He’ll have to ignore the apprehension of stepping in the middle of their feud, but he can’t let it escalate. It could seriously damage most of the peace that’s been made between all of them.

“Look,” he sighs long-sufferingly. “You’ll have to find a way to get along. I’ll talk to her and warn her off of her more... _prejudice_ personality traits, but she’s bound to slip up. Most of us have been taught this way of thinking for our entire lives. Not everyone can just turn it off.”

She looks at him with eyes filled with fire. “I can understand that, but you and your friends seem to be doing well. Why can’t they accept it and move on? If they hold onto all that nasty shite they’ve been taught, it’s not going to do anyone any good. Times are changing, and if you don’t adapt, you’ll be left behind.”

“It’s more than that, don’t you understand?” he asks, voice filled with tension. He runs his hands through his hair aggressively. “We may seem like we’re handling things well, but this is all new to us. We’re trying to undo up to two decades of conditioning by our parents. You can all claim that we’re prejudice, but you all look down your noses at us as well.”

“Do you think we look at you the way we do because we think we’re better than you? No, it’s years of being told we don’t belong in your world because we were born _inferior_ ,” she spits the word out with such venom, it catches him by surprise. “It’s because people like me have endured being called Mudblood and filthy because we were born with magic, even if we were not supposed to have any. That’s why we looked down on you. You proved to us that people can change, but it’s not fair for her to continue to spout her disgust for Muggles in front of us.”

He sighs heavily before sitting at the edge of her bed, not asking for permission even if his Pureblood upbringing screams at him that it’s improper. “I’m not saying that we don’t deserve your hatred, because we do. But we’ve had to deal with the same from your house. The Gryffindor's made it quite clear that they hate anyone who was sorted into Slytherin. Not all of us are dark wizards or worthy of the hate all of you have for us. It may not be blood and the circumstances of birth that you look down at us for, but that judgement is still there.”

Draco doesn’t understand how this turned into an argument, but it feels good to get it off his chest. He believes that in order to move forward, they need to get this out.

He still remembers the frightened first years who were sorted at the beginning of the year. They were absolutely petrified once the sorting hat called out the cursed house. Slytherin’s were not viewed trustfully, and the young children picked up on that fact. The only good thing that came out of it is that now that the war is over, more Muggle-born’s and Half-blood’s were sorted into the house. Without the threat of supremacy ruling all, the house has become much more diverse. There are still some bad apples - such as Pansy - in the Slytherin house, but they are making remarkable progress.

Draco continues with a reserved tone. “Pansy is more behind than the rest of us. She knows that there must be change, but she was comfortable being superior to you and your housemates. It’s going to take a while for her to figure out that she won’t survive if she keeps on going as she is.”

“Unless she wants to end up in a Azkaban cell,” Granger snorts with unladylike like amusement. “Sorry, that may not be funny.”

Draco blows air through his nose, relieved that she hadn’t gotten too upset with him.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” she starts again with hesitance. “I won’t be too hard on her, but you’ll have to find a way to tell her when she’s gone too far. I don’t mean to be crude, but she needs a leash, Malfoy. The shorter, the better.”

Malfoy hold his hand out to her, waiting for her to shake. “Deal.”

She echoes his words back at him with a strong handshake. They sit there in silence for awhile, and it allows him to observe her more closely than he has in a while. He’s noticed the side effects of her insomnia, but it’s outweighed by his other observations. For instance, he’s never noticed how many freckles she has on the bridge of her nose. It may be from the sun this morning, but he believes that they’ve always been present, waiting for him to notice. She really is a beautiful girl. While she’s wearing her baggy jeans, and a long sleeve shirt, he can still see that the week they’ve been here has done her good.

She’s starting to gain the weight that she lost during the war, and her eyes seem less burdened. While he wants to know what her nightmare is about, he’s not insensitive enough to ask.

His eyes crawl down to the slash on her neck, and he tenses up. He wants to reach over and run his finger along the scar and whisper to her how sorry he is, and tell her that he hates himself for standing back like a coward while she was subjected to such horror. He couldn’t imagine how she looks at herself in the mirror everyday and still be able to go on like nothing is different. She might just be the strongest person he knows. Draco still has to hide the urge to throw up everytime he peeks at his dark mark. It’s a wonder how she seems so confident in her skin with the marks on her body from all those who have tried to take her down.

“Stop thinking so hard about it, Malfoy.” Hermione says as she bumps her shoulder against his.

His lips part in surprise and his head reels back. “How did you..?”

She looks at him for a moment before humming, seeming comfortable with the subject. Even when they’re not the best of friends. “I know what self-loathing looks like. I see it every time I look in the mirror.”

“It’s my fault, though,” he says frustratingly at the witch. “It would’ve never happened if I had stepped in to stop it.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her and see the judgement in her eyes. It seems like he’s back at square one. He knows that he’s making progress, but the scars are just too much. How could she sit here and act like nothing happened?

She grabs his chin between her thumb and forefinger and turns his head to look her in the eye. He sees nothing but acceptance in her eyes. “Did you put the knife to my skin, Malfoy?”

“No,” he answers her without reluctance. “But I let it continue when I could have stopped it.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit. We were young, even if it wasn’t so long ago. There’s nothing you could have done that wouldn’t have gotten you killed in the process. We had our own people to protect at the time. You had your mother, and I had Harry and Ron. I endured just as you had to. You did enough.”

He cries out in frustration, before looking in the direction of her bedroom door. He calculates his chance of escaping the conversation, but he puts a stop to it. He owes her this much at least. “Lying about who you were was considerably less than what you could have done had you been in my position.”

The room is silent for a moment, and he can tell that she’s taking the time to think about it seriously. “Perhaps that may be true, but I respect you for what you did. You knew it could endanger your family, yet you lied anyways. I would do anything I could to protect those close to me, so I can’t say I would’ve done the same as you. I probably would have been selfish if it meant keeping them safe. You did what you could, Malfoy. Nothing less. You need to forgive yourself.”

“I can still hear your screams sometimes,” Draco admits quietly while he looks over at her. “How is it possible to forgive myself when I’m surrounded by reminders every day?”

Her eyes soften as she regards him. “Simple. Remember that I don’t blame you for what happened to me. Your crazy aunt was insane, Malfoy. This is all on her. It’s not your burden to bear.”

“Easier said than done,” he says with reluctance. “I don’t think I can just forget so easily.”

“How about some incentive?” she says mischievously, which makes him feel wary for the first time during their conversation. She looks stunning with the glint in her eyes that spells out trouble, but he has every right to be on edge. It’s common knowledge that once Granger gets that look in her eyes, there is hell to pay. “The next time you look at my scars and look away like the insensitive jerk you are, I’ll show you how much I’ve improved with my right hook.”

He sputters with indignation. “Wha-? How? You know what, I don’t even want to test that theory.”

“Good choice, Malfoy.” Hermione bats her eyes at him playfully.

He stand from the bed feeling much lighter than he has in years. He knows that there is a lot that they still have to work through, but it’s the first time that he’s felt like they could build a friendship. Without all the unsolved tension in the way, he’ll be free to talk with her freely. Just because he’s made up with her, doesn’t mean he’ll reach out to the other two tag-along's. Potter and Weasley can feel free to stay far away from him.

Maybe they’ll even get to the stage where he can find out about her nightmares. Perhaps he’ll reveal his own.

He makes it to her door before he turns around and gazes at the witch with a serious look in his eyes. “And, Hermione?”

She looks at him with wide eyes filled with surprise at hearing her first name spill from his lips. He’s surprised himself, but he admits that it feels good leaving his lips. It rolls off his tongue like the smoothest whiskey.

“Your scars never disgust me,” he continues without heeding his own advice on stopping. “It makes you who you are. If you think about it, they tell a story, and you’re story is worth telling.”


	10. Chapter 10

It takes another few days to pass by for the feeling of nervousness to hit the occupants in the house. They’re two weeks into their ministry imposed exile and it feels like time is passing far to quickly. The witches and wizards have been giving up on their animosity towards one another in favor of branching out and building new bonds. Surprisingly - or not - they fit quite well with each other. The Slytherin witches seem to band together, and they refuse to reach out, but the rest of them build new social circles like there had never been any hatred at all. 

Theo is anticipating for the rest of their stay to pass by just as quickly, and he doesn’t much enjoy the thought of it. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel the weight of expectations riding on his shoulders. There’s no masks that he needs to hind behind. His two mates are the only ones who know him for who he truly is, which has always been his saving grace. As welcome as it is, Theo has enjoyed being able to be himself freely without the fear of judgement or punishment.

He’s had to hide behind a mask for so long that he’s starting to discover things about himself that he never would have known if not for this experience. He misses magic something terrible. The feeling of his magic collecting under his skin is very suppressing, but its little trouble in the scheme of things. He’s learned that he’s exceptionally good at cooking. Who would have thought that Theodore Nott - the marked Death Eater - would enjoy a domestic task such as cooking?

He’s had house elves his entire life, so the chore had never fallen on him, but the feeling of cooking for the first time was a reminder of how much he loves brewing potions. Learning of all the different ingredients and how they mix together to make a meal that everyone can enjoy is something that lifts his spirits. When he’s cooking with Hermione, especially. He can forget about all the awful things he’s witnessed and done in favor of watching the curly headed witch flit about the kitchen teaching him all he wants to know.

That woman is as magnificent as her legend claims. He has no doubt that people will speak about her with reverence for many years to come, which is well deserved in his eyes. The witch isn’t perfect, but to him she might as well be.

Her patience is one of the things he adores most. When asked too many questions about the world she came from, she doesn’t snap or lose her composure, she gives an answer or demonstration instead. Theo doesn’t imagine that it’s easy having to walk them through everything, especially the components of electricity, but she handles it all with light smiles and grace. Something that many witches their age are lacking.

It’s in the evening that everything comes to a head when they’re sitting around the bonfire. Not many joined the group outside, instead wanting to spend time with their significant others. Neville and Susan for instance have really hit it off. Harry and Luna aren’t official, but it’s only a matter of time. Theo notices the glares from the Weasley witch, but Harry doesn’t seem to give it any thought. Luna may as well have her head in the clouds for all she notices around her. He’s never met someone so cut off from reality, but it’s endearing as much as it’s worrying.

The flames are high, and the drinks are plenty as they sit in their own chairs around the fire. After eating dinner that Theo and Hermione cooked, the group joined out by the fire to enjoy a relaxing night, Dean being the one to recommend having a fire. It took awhile to satisfy Hermione on the size - the witch seems to have a fascination with fire - so after adding enough gasoline to set the wood ablaze, they sat and watched the flames flicker almost as high as the trees.

Taking a sip of his meed, Theo observes his fellow wizards. Draco and Blaise sit across from him, while he sits next to Hermione. Dean and Harry take up their spot on her other side. Surprisingly, Theo couldn’t find it in himself to hate the bloke who seems so close to Hermione. He feels the obvious jealousy of their close interactions, but he couldn’t despise him when he’s actually a very humorous bloke. He still wants to know what their relationship is. He’s known that Hermione is attached at the hip with Harry, but he doesn’t recall seeing her with Dean on a more informal level.

“I don’t think I ever want to go back after this,” Harry admits quietly. “There’s nothing left for us back there. How’d you do it, ‘Mione? How’d you go back to that hell every time you experienced this type of peace?”

The light-hearted atmosphere darkens slightly with the inquiry. Hermione pauses and purses her lips, her eyes never leaving the fire. Lifting up her glass of Brandy, she takes a generous gulp. “I couldn’t abandon my duty. It’s as simple as that.”

“It was never your job, though. You could have left and never looked back.”

Her eyes dance with a story, nothing particularly good. “I’m not claiming to be a saint or anything, Harry. Of course I thought about leaving it all behind, but I never would have gone through with it.”

“Loyalty,” Theo grimaces in understanding. “It gets to the best of us.”

The others murmur their agreement, but Hermione shakes her head dismissively. The rest of the group look at her, waiting for what she has to say next. It’s not everyday you get to pick apart Hermione Granger’s brain.

“It wasn’t loyalty,” she says with certainty, her eyes finally meeting his before they move to the wizard who ruined the mood. “I won’t say that loyalty didn’t motivate me, but most of you don’t understand. Even you, Harry. You were fueled by the vengeance of your parents, whether you admit it or not. You also fought for your right to be free of the man who has taken so much from you. Some of you even fought to protect your families, even if you fought on the wrong side.”

Harry goes to deny what she’s said, but Draco cuts in. “You say we don’t understand, so make us, Granger.”

“If you wish,” she hums contemplatively, amber eyes moving back to the fire. “Most people would think I stuck around just for Harry, but it’s more than that. People like Dean and I stuck around solely because we wanted to fight for our rights. If we ran away, it would mean we would give up on our hope to belong in that world. From the first time I got called a Mudblood - don’t flinch like that, Draco - I knew that the rest of my time in that world was going to be a struggle. It was only solidified by the fact that there was a Half-blood wizard manipulating the old families to get power in the wizarding community. He didn’t give a shite about blood, it was about being in power, but the rest of the Wizarding World was none the wiser. He played those families like puppets.”

“You lost me at the Half-blood wizard, honestly.” Theo says, feeling lost on where this is going. “What does this Half-blood have to do with your urge to stay and fight?”

She shares a secret look with Harry before gazes over at Theo. “That Half-blood wizard went by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Switch up the letters of that name correctly and you’ll get the rather ridiculous anagram that translates to ‘I am Lord Voldemort.’”

The shocked gasps and the widening of eyes from everyone around the fire show that he’s not alone in his surprise.

Theo sits back in his chair heavily and brings up his hand to rub it over the stubble on his cheek. This information is overwhelming for those who called him the Dark Lord with actual deference. Never respect, but deference due to his hold over them. “I always wondered why none of his followers knew his name. I just figured that he was last in line of a powerful family that was connected to the Slytherin line, due to his ability to talk to his snake.”

“You’re both right and wrong,” Harry interrupts her before she can reply. “He was last in line in the Gaunt family, which is related to the Slytherin’s very distantly, but his father was a Muggle.”

“So, you’re telling me that my father put me through all that prejudice bullshite when he was willingly following a Half-blood?” Draco sneers, unconsciously looking like his father. “What a joke.”

Hermione shakes her head and looks at Draco with disapproval. “It doesn’t matter whether he knew or not. Your father is attracted to money and power, and Voldemort had both. There are many people to blame for our lost childhood, not just your father. The prejudice wouldn’t end if they found out he wasn’t a Pure-blood.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Dean mentions lightly before Draco can reply.

“Right,” she clears her throat before continuing with her original discussion. “Before Tom held influence over the old families, blood prejudice wasn’t spoken as freely. You know how the sacred twenty-eight are big into traditions and manners and such? They held their beliefs close to their chests because they didn’t want to be seen as improper or uncouth.”

Theo makes a noise of understanding. “I see where you’re going with this.”

“Imagine this. Muggle-born’s are aloud into the magical world, but they’re looked down on and they don’t receive many rights. Now a little orphan Half-blood walks into Hogwarts and gets sorted into Slytherin, where he will claim to be a Pure-blood. This little boy is clever - cleverer than most - and picks up on the hatred of those less than pure. He hates being looked down on, so he will show his power freely, gaining the favor of other Slytherin’s. As he grows older, he starts to plan and promises things that these old families want more than anything.”

“To get rid of those of lesser blood.” Theo guesses, feeling a chill down his spine.

“Yes,” she hesitates and makes eyes contact with him. “He promises them that if they support him with their money, that he’ll start a rebellion and eliminate all the Muggle-born’s from their world. He hates his Muggle father for leaving his mother when he finds out he was drugged with a love potion, which resulted in her pregnancy. So now these old families aren’t satisfied enough with ‘Mudblood’s’ being killed, they want to see everyone they consider less to perish. Instead of losing the favor of his followers, he lets them loose on the Muggle World where they were allowed to unleash all of their fury. By then, the arrogance and pride had gotten to their heads, and they’re suddenly allowing their Pure-blood propaganda to flow from their lips easily. No matter where they are or who might be listening.”

He feels like he could throw up just from hearing the hard truths of the magical world. He’s always known that it wasn’t the best place, but this is something else. “He unites followers by promising to achieve their common goal.”

“I can’t decide whether to praise the bloke for being so cunning or be disgusted by the terrible things he achieved.” Blaise puts in his own two knuts.

Hermione nods in agreement. “Tom Riddle was a brilliant wizard. It’s too bad that he went down the path that he did.”

“Do you even hear yourself, ‘Mione?” Harry sputters incredulously. “He was a foul, evil wizard and you’re sitting here praising him.”

“Come off it, Harry. He was a terrible person, yes, but he was also brilliant. If he had the morals and emotional capacity, he could have taken the Wizarding World by storm.”

Dean jumps in Hermione’s defense. “Leave her alone about it, you tosser. You’re viewing it in the wrong way. She’s not saying that she agrees with what he’s done.”

“She might as well have!” Harry shouts, but Hermione seems unmoved.

“Did you admire Dumbledore, Harry?” she questions him, already seeming to know the answer. “Of course you did. He was a brilliant wizard, but he wasn’t the most trustworthy wizard either. He did terrible things in his lifetime, but you forget that when you look at his more redeeming qualities and accomplishments.”

“That’s not the same, though,” Harry pouts mulishly, but deflates a little bit at the comparison. “He wasn’t a dark wizard.”

“He wasn’t considered a dark wizard, but he did use dark magic, Harry. The man wasn’t a saint. Magic is about intent, and Dumbledore knew that. The difference between a dark and light wizard is the intent behind their magic.”

“I should know better by now not to argue with you.” Harry grouses.

“I’m afraid that you’ll never learn,” she says mischievously. “Anyways, by the time Tom Riddle died the first time, Muggle-born’s had up to no rights. They weren’t aloud to work in the ministry or anything. They were lucky to find their own employment outside of the ministry due to the prejudices. I fought for those rights when I went against Voldemort. It wasn’t entirely for Harry.”

Theo observes the way the hand that’s holding her glass shakes. The amber liquid moves inside the glass, and it makes his stomach knot. Here they are, wanting to hear her side of the story, and they hadn’t even noticed how it was bothering her.

“As much as I enjoy sating my curiosity, we should move onto lighter conversation,” Theo announces, and he’s rewarded with a thankful smile from the witch. “We came out here to relax. The heavier subjects can wait.”

“Agreed,” Draco drawls coolly, also eyeing the witch. “We may as well take advantage of the peace while we have it. No more conversations about psychopathic wizards.”  

Theo admits to himself that it was a good idea to end that particular conversation, but he knows that his curiosity will eat at him. It’s evident that the light side knows far more about The Dark Lord than his own followers. He wonders how they even got this information when his own father never knew this much about him. He’ll hold back his questions for now, but he knows that he’ll break eventually. If he has it his way, he will have years to ask all the questions he wants. Especially if he can charm the witch into spending the rest of her life with him. It’s playing through his head like the most tantalizing fantasy, and he hopes that one day it will turn into reality.

The rest of the evening is spent conversing with one another and building bonds. The lack of drama is what makes the night truly memorable, even if they spent some of the time talking about heavier subjects. Some of the other's trickle out of the house to join the fire and drinking as well. 

He learns things about his fellow classmates that he’d never guess about. For instance, despite his newly built confidence, Neville’s gentle nature is still present in his love of herbology. The wizard has many surprising aspects, but his nurturing personality is not one of them.

One thing that he’s learned that surprised him is Hermione’s love for composing music. She knows how to play the guitar and piano with varying degrees of success. She claims that she is shite at singing, but Dean protests immediately. Harry seems just as surprised at her revelation, which confuses about everyone. How is it that Dean seems to be closer to Hermione on a personal level than her known best friend since first year?

Seeming to read his thought, Neville gains the courage to ask the question. “I’ve been waiting to ask this, and don’t mind telling me I’m being insensitive if I’m prying, but how is it that you two seem to know each other so well? I don’t recall seeing you together very often outside of the common room.”

Dean grins at him. “It’s alright, mate. No harm done. We’ve been waiting for someone to ask, but it seems no one had the balls to do it themselves.”

“We practically grew up together,” Hermione rolls her eyes with exasperation. “Our fathers were very close. They were in the same military unit for years, so I’ve been stuck with this tosser since childhood. By the time we got to Hogwarts, we wanted to branch out a bit. I didn’t have the best time making friends and I was too prideful to run to him when the going got rough. He hit it off immediately with Seamus and I got unlucky by being saddled with Harry and Ron.”

“Oi!” Harry protests loudly. “That’s not fair. Why is there so many things I don’t know about you? I feel like a shite friend right now.”

Hermione gives him a look filled with fond amusement. “You weren’t always the best friend, I won’t argue with that, but you were enough. And it’s not like we had time to learn about each other outside of the magical world. We were too busy getting into trouble every year. Not to mention we are both private people who try to keep our magical and muggle lives separate.”

“Woe is me,” Dean says dramatically, laying a hand on his chest. “I’m the honorary brother, and she tries to keep me away from her secret life in the magical world.”

“Oh, come off it you two. It’s not like I never said you couldn’t stick around when we were younger and in Hogwarts. You just found someone to replace me.” Hermione sniffles falsely with a twinkle in her eye. He loves seeing her being playful. It’s breathtaking. “Harry took me in like an orphan and I was never the same again.”

“You’re joking!” Harry laughs, “Hermione’s the one who sunk her claws in after we saved her from the troll and we’ve been marching to her every whim since then. She may as well have been a drill sergeant.”

Theo lets out a breath he hadn't realized he's been holding. It's a relief to know he has no competition in the form of Dean Thomas. Knowing that their relationship is platonic is good enough for now. It may be a while before he gains the courage to make a move, but now he knows it may not be entirely unwelcome. 

Watching them bicker playfully with each other shows just how close they are as friends. A small smile rises unbidden upon his lips. It reminds him that even if they went through a war together, their bonds have evolved and grown stronger. It’s a relief to see that those who were most involved in the war can still joke and laugh as if life is still a beautiful thing, despite the bumps they encountered along the way. It gives him hope that there is more to life than fighting and surviving for himself. The past two weeks have been an enlightening experience, and like Harry, he’s not eager for it to end. 

 

* * *

 

The witch listens from the trees as the filthy Mudblood talks of her Lord as if she knows him. The rage builds and simmers in her stomach at the thought. She’s corrupting the few Pure-blood heir’s that The Sacred Twenty-Eight has left and it sends her blood boiling with the need of vengeance. Her Lord would never deceive his loyal followers in that way. Just the accusation is enough for her to swear to seek revenge for her Lord. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean that the loyalty of the Death Eaters has faded. 

She already knew that the little Malfoy heir had switched his loyalty, but as a Slytherin she could only commend him on his cunning. The boy only switched sides when the dark side was losing. She could be righteously angry on her Lord’s behalf, but she can respect the bollocks it must have took to act on his own self-preservation. On the ministries orders, the little snakes are doing what they’re good at by blending into their surroundings. In time she’ll be able to pay them generously for their efforts.

She’s been biding her time with her disappointment of a husband, watching her prey get comfortable in their new routine. It’s only a matter of time before darkness will reign once again, and this time it won’t lose.

The filthy Mudblood and the Potter boy won’t know what’s coming for them. Knowing they don’t have magic makes it all the more tempting to play with her prey, but her husband has always reprimanded her on playing with her food before she was ready to reveal herself. The ministry has always been unintelligent, but sending out the wizarding youth into the Muggle World while escape Death Eaters roam it was perhaps the best thing they could have done for them.

It won’t be long until open season. The remaining Death Eaters have many debts to call upon, and her eyes are set on the Muggle-born wench. The Potter boy as well. If only the dirty whore had kept her mouth shut about her Lord. She may have been able to pass under her notice, but her wand sung with the need to inflict the most damage on the witch who dared to speak filthy lies about her Lord. 

She cackles and fantasizes about the madness she’ll soon be able to unleash.

The time is ticking.


	11. Chapter 11

The piercing scream wakes him up from his restful slumber. This isn’t a new occurrence considering he’s in a house full of victims of war. Sometimes he’ll lay there in bed and pray that whoever is having such a nightmare will wake up soon. Being stuck in your own head inside of a nightmare - or memory - is hell enough for most of them. 

Blaise sits up in bed and looks over at his mates, finding them sprawled out in their own undignified heap. He makes a mental note to give them shite about the way Draco is cuddling up to Theo. He has his head resting on Theo’s abdomen, and Theo has has hands resting on top of his head. Blaise has to hold back a snort at the scene. Sharing a bed hasn’t been the most ideal situation, but they help chase each other’s nightmares away, yet they have never woken up like that. It makes him sober up with worry, thinking that Draco may have had a rougher nightmare than usual if he’s seeking comfort in his sleep.

The sound of Hermione’s door banging open startles him from his thoughts. The screaming starts again, but this time he can tell it isn’t from a nightmare. More feminine screaming starts, followed shortly by a male shouting.

Blaise shakes his mates to wake them up from their slumber. He knows that whatever is happening may not be pretty considering how the screams have turned blood curdling. Both Theo and Draco are up and out of bed, hands reaching for wands that aren’t there. Blaise runs to the bedroom door, spewing nasty curses in Italian along the way. His friends are right behind him.

Looking to the left of the hallway, he sees Granger racing up the stairs leading to the second floor. Potter’s door opens quickly, causing him to pause in his steps. The wizards face is pale and his eyes are blown wide. It looks as if he himself isn’t the only one who can tell that there is something serious going on.

“Potter?” he questions quickly, following after him as he paces forward at a steady pace. “Do you have any idea what we’re about to walk into?”

Harry looks at him and he has to hold back reeling in shock. The bloke looks absolutely terrified. “I don’t know. If ‘Mione’s already running, it can’t be good.” He takes the stairs two at a time, using the banister to hold his balance. Draco and Theo start breathing heavily behind him, trying to keep up in their half-asleep state. “You guys should probably stay back.”

“Hell no, Potter,” Blaise rebukes without thought. “We’ve got just as much of right as you to see what’s happening.”

They arrive into the main hallway on the second floor. The screaming continues with sobs mixed in. They hear Hermione yell at whoever it is in the room at the end of the hallway. “Get yourself together and get the fuck out of the room! Now!”

The minute they reach the door, Blaise wishes he listened to Potter and stayed back. He falls to his knees and heaves until his throat is sore. He distantly feels his mates collapse next to him, but he can’t seem to lift up his head to look. For all he knows, they’re adding to his own vomit staining the floor. There’s no sense of time as he tries to collect himself. He feels the unbearable need to turn tail and run as far away as he can, but he’s not sure he’d make it two steps.

Blood. Blood is everywhere. It’s all he sees. The back of his eyelids are colored red.

“-Blaise! Blaise! Come on, mate. We need to get you guys out of here.”

He wants to tell the voice calling to him to sod off until he notices Dean kneeling in front of him with a paled face. He sneaks a peek to the direction of his current torment, only to see the door closed. Breathing a shaky sigh, he sits back on his heels and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” he questions aggressively. “Tell me that wasn’t what I think it is, Thomas!”

“Can’t do that, mate,” the wizard grunts solemnly. “Come on, Harry and Hermione will take care of it. We need to get you guys down to the kitchen unless you are able to help me get everyone down there as well.”

Blaise is momentarily baffled. “You can’t be serious! You expect me to sit and do nothing after seeing that? Fuck that!”

“Blaise!” Draco cuts in, voice sharp as a knife. “It’s best if we let them handle it. If we help him out, at least we can prepare everyone for the news they’re about the get.”

“No. I’m not going to sit aside and do nothing. Why don’t you and Theo go help him. I’ll go see if I can help Hermione and Harry with anything.”

Theo turns and marches down the hall, not at all afraid to be judged for his weak stomach. Draco gives him a last look before he marches after Theo. Dean also checks once more before giving him a nod and good luck. Now that he’s alone in the hallway, he breathes deeply to prepare himself for what he’s about to walk into. He scrubs at his eyes, hoping it will get rid of the crazed look that he knows still lingers. His blood freezes in his veins due to the fear pumping through his system.

Although he prepared for the worst, he still can’t help but recoil at the sight in front of him. Blood covers the walls, painting the walls red. What used to be the body of their fellow schoolmate lays in tatters across the bed. The ropes that hold his wrists to the bed frame seem to be useless now that the arms aren’t connected to the body anymore. The skin on the body is blistered severely from what looks like burns, and what used to be a connected head lays tauntingly on the pillow. It’s as if whoever the killer is pieced the body together like a puzzle before they left.

Blaise puts the back of his hand up to his mouth and tries to hold in the bile. His stomach roils to the point where he can’t bear to look any longer. Instead of studying the body, he looks over to the other two in the room. Harry looks catatonic, staring at the body with lifeless eyes. Hermione looks around the room with stubborn jaw, seeming to pick up clues from every surface. Her eyes are hard with unforgiving fury that threatens to swallow the entire room whole. When her eyes pass over the body, the only thing that shows is clinical detachment. He envies her right then and there. How is it that she can keep her calm when Blaise feels like the ground is collapsing under him?

“Can you do me a favor, Blaise?” she asks him with steely resolve. When she receives a shaky nod in return she continues with her request. “I’m going to need you to floo to the Headmistress’s office to warn her of what happened. Have her send the aurors, but warn them to apparate at the gate. Tell her directly that if anyone pops up on the property or in the house, they will be treated as hostiles.”

He runs a unsteady hand through his hair. “Do you have floo powder?”

“Yes, you’ll find it on top of the fireplace,” she replies while eyeing him. “Take someone with you. You might want to bring Madam Pomfrey as well. I think we’re going to need help with the others. Don’t let anyone but you, Pomfrey and McGonagall travel through the floo. I’ll want to check everyone who comes onto the property as discreetly as possible.”

Blaise confirms that he understands before heading downstairs. As he descends the stairs and walks into the kitchen he can’t help but feel his respect for the witch rise. She not only remained calm and collected under duress, but she’s also been able to come up with a plan that will ensure their safety. He would have questioned her on her decision to escort the aurors on the property, but he understands. She knows as well as anyone that some of those in the ministry still can’t be trusted. She doesn’t want to invite a potential killer into her home with everyone there.

He enters into the kitchen and spies Theo sitting with Draco. Both of their heads are bent together and they’re whispering back and forth, trying not to call attention to themselves. The others look just as worn down. The witches are still sobbing and shaking with terror. Dean stands behind Seamus with a supporting hand on his back, portraying the look of a supporting significant other. Ron and Ginny sit together at the table, both looking lost and terrified. Neville has his hands rubbing down Susan’s arms, comforting the witch who is openly grieving.

“Hermione wants everyone to stay where they are while I go floo to Hogwarts to get help. I’ll need someone to come with me,” The witches all sit up straight, obviously hoping that this could be their chance at escape. He cuts them off before they can start. “I’ll need someone who is collected enough to speak with the Headmistress.”

“I’ll go with you, mate,” Dean volunteers. He claps Seamus on the back before stepping up. “Someone needs to get Luna before she wanders off into the woods.”

“Theo and I will take care of that,” Draco speaks up. “You guys better go.”

They stand up and follow them into the living room, watching them as they disappear through green flames. He doesn’t know how things took a wrong turn so suddenly, but he knew deep in his heart that this was only the beginning.

* * *

Their arrival in the Headmistress’s office seems rather anticlimactic considering the news they bear. The Headmistress looks up from her desk at the sounds of the floo. Her eyes widen a moment before they narrow into furious slits. “Why in the name of Merlin are the two of you here?”

“It’s important, Headmistress,” Dean swallows roughly, hands clenched tightly at his sides. “It’s an emergency.”

She searches their faces for any trace of falsehood before straightening her glasses. “Take a seat and tell me what happened.”

Blaise shakes his head in refusal. He appreciates her getting straight to the point, but they need to get back as quickly as possible. “There’s no time, Professor. You’ll need to call in a auror.”

“Preferably one that you can trust. It would be ideal if we only have to explain what happened once.” Whatever she sees on their faces must be enough to convince her. She rushes to the floo and calls in Kingsley Shacklebolt. Blaise knows him to be the Minister and wonders why in the seventh hell she wouldn’t call in an actual auror. After a moment of waiting, he steps through the flames, still dawning his Minister robe.

“What is so important that you must call me out of a meeting, Minerva?” The tall, dark wizard questions kindly. “Though I should thank you. That French ambassador is a rather dull man.”

The Headmistress points in their direction, causing the Minister’s jovial smile to fall slightly. It’s unnerving to be in the same room as the man whose orders lead them to this nightmare to begin with. Blaise begins to feel the stirring of rage in the pit of his stomach. His lungs scream for air as he holds his breath, willing the torrent of words he wants to barrage the man with to not escape. He feels Dean lay a calming hand on his shoulder and he looks over to him only to be taken aback by the warning in his eyes. There’s a lot of understanding in his expression, but Dean is clearly telling him that now is not the time to lose his composure. As if he needed to be told in the first place. He just can’t get the picture of blood and unattached body parts out of his head.

He wants to bellow that this is all their fault at the top of his lungs, but he knows it will do little good.

“What’s happened, boys?” The Headmistress plows right on, causing his temper to deflate a little. Kingsley stands up straighter, sensing the darker emotions in the office.

Blaise opens his mouth to answer, but he can’t seem to get the words out. He swallows back the bile threatening to make another appearance, and wishes more than anything that what he was about to say wouldn’t change anything. They should have known that peace couldn’t last forever. “Justin Finch-Fletchley is dead.”

The room goes extremely quiet, and he has to wait for the news to sink in. The Headmistress gasps and her hand flies to cover her heart. Dean presses the back of his hand to his mouth. Even the minister looks rather pale. “He was found this morning. You’re going to need to send aurors. Hermione wanted me to relay a message to tell the aurors to apparate to the outside gate of her property. If anyone shows up on the property, she warns that they will be treated as an enemy.”

“Oh, dear,” McGonagall pales dramatically. “Is anyone else hurt? Is everyone else okay? What happened?”

“We don’t know who was involved, but based on the words written on the wall, we assume one of the escaped Death Eaters found where we are staying,” Blaise informs her solemnly, his hands balling into fists. “No one else was hurt, but you should bring Pomfrey. Some of the group are rather hysterical.”

“What should I prepare the aurors for, Mr. Zabini?” Kingsley asks him, his foot tapping on the floor with rapid movements.

“It seems to be a warning of sorts. Pansy woke the house up screaming when she found him. We assume that she went to Justin’s bedroom for something and found his body there. Hermione, Harry, Dean and myself are the only others to enter the room,” Blaise informs them thickly. “There’s blood everywhere, and his body isn’t completely intact. Whoever did this was a gruesome motherfucker.”

His voice started out shaky, but by the end of his sentence, it came out more of a growl than anything. The helplessness of the situation is starting to come back now that he’s in the presence of adults. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was their fault for sending them off into an unknown world without protection, even when they knew that there are escaped Death Eater’s out there.

Dean continues for him, sensing that if he kept talking, he may lose his composure all together. “There is a message written on the wall in blood. It says ‘Beware my little Mudblood, for you shall be next.’”

“Which groups stuck together?” The Minister questions. “Justin Finch-Fletchley was a Muggle-born. We’ll need to know which Muggle-born the murderer left the message for and get protection detail immediately.”

Blaise’s hand trembles as the message hits him. It feels like he’s just been punched in the gut. He needs to get back to the house to make sure she’s safe. Knowing how many enemies the witch has makes him even more apprehensive. There is no question that the message is meant for her. “We need to get back to the house right now. The only other Muggle-born’s in the group are Dean and Hermione.”

The Headmistress shares in the same distress as she looks at her former student. She raises her wand and sends off a patronus to Madam Pomfrey. She looks over to the Minister before he gets into the floo. With a stern glare she stops him in his tracks. “I will be bringing the students their wands. You’ll need to get into contact with the other students that are in the Muggle World and warn them of what has happened.”

“You can’t give them their wands, Minerva,” he replies with reluctance. “The Wizengamot will twist it around and make it so they don’t graduate with their requirements.”

“Forgive me, Kingsley, but as a fellow order member, I cannot and will not leave these children unprotected. If the Wizengamot don’t understand, then they can take it up with me. Them not passing the requirements is the least of our worries. I refuse to stand by and leave them without the means to protect themselves.”

Kingsley gives her a long measuring look before stepping into the floo. With green flames flashing, he disappears, leaving the Headmistress breathing heavily. Using her wand to summon the container holding their wands, she hands them to the wizards. Blaise wastes no time rummaging through the container until he finds his wand. Wrapping his hand around it, he can feel his magic thrumming through his veins in satisfaction. At long last, Blaise feels completely whole again. Breathing a sigh of relief, he runs his fingers over the vine wood of his wand. Dean follows shortly, and he sees his tense shoulders relax a tad at being reunited with his own wand.

“May as well grab the whole box,” The Headmistress says right as Pomfrey steps into the room with her medical bag. “It seems that I will be making a lot of trips today to return those wands to their rightful owners.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for Blaise to return back to the house. He was in a state of constant worry for every minute he was separated from the group. He didn’t know how it happened, but this group grew on him quickly and being away from them at such a time of loss and terror had taken its toll on him. As soon as he exited the fireplace, he was able to sense the grief in the room.

He may not have been close with Justin, but the bloke was a decent wizard. Their conversations were always polite - if not distant - and Blaise couldn’t squash the feeling that he’d missed out on a potential friendship. Knowing that someone snuck into the house to do what they did to the wizard makes him sick. How are any of them going to forgive themselves for this when they know it happened just right down the hall?

It made him nauseous to think it, but whoever the killer is must have used some very powerful silencing wards in order to keep them from hearing what was going on. The morose mood stayed as the Minister showed up with his group of aurors, and not even the return of their magic could squash the dark mood riding over all of them.

Hermione continued to pace from one end of the room and the other like a caged animal, waiting for the aurors to come up with some type of evidence to figure out who had killed Justin. Her face is drawn with stress, and he can tell by the pinch of her brows that she is holding back her own emotions in favor of taking care of the rest of them. Her and Theo already brought the group tea, even though most looked as if they couldn’t stomach it.

Astoria continued to be rather unsympathetic and has snapped at the witch multiple times. He’s not sure where the animosity came from, but the looks she is receiving from everyone proves that she’s being judged for her timing. Even Ginny - who has caused many previous fights in the house - is keeping her mouth quiet.

Not known for being silent for long, Weasley speaks up to the group with uncharacteristic solemnity. “Who do you suppose the message is for?”

Blaise, Draco, and Theo share incredulous looks. Weasley has been nothing but a nuisance since they arrived on their first day in the Muggle World. It’s easy to forget that the red-headed wizard has a brain when he’s been acting the way he has. Blaise supposes they should respect it considering this tragedy has made all of them - besides Astoria - sober up.

“It’s either for Dean or Hermione.” Harry speaks with low tones. The wizard was given a calming draught from Poppy and soon as she arrived. For a wizard who has experienced so much death, he seemed to become very unresponsive once he was in the room filled with blood. “You got any enemies that we should be aware of, Dean?”

The wizard in question shakes his head with surety. “I kept to myself for most of the war. Especially the year that you three were on the run. I fought in the final battle, but I didn’t kill anyone, so it couldn’t be revenge on me.”

The rest of them look at Hermione who took her place in front of the window. She has her arms pressed against the window pane. Her forehead rests on the glass as she looks out on the grounds. “I’ve lost count on how many enemies I have. There’s no straight answer that I could give you, other than most of the people who held grudges against me are dead. The handwriting on the wall seems familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen it before. That points out more than anything that I may be the target of the warning message.”

She says this with a matter-of-fact tone that sets Blaise’s mind ringing with warning. She doesn't look at anyone as she informs them. He shares a look filled of worry with Theo. There’s something not right with the way she’s acting. He knows that Hermione isn’t an overly emotional witch, but her and Justin happened to be good friends. He’s been expecting her to collapse at any moment, but she seems to be holding herself together.

A few hours have passed before the aurors get ready to take their leave. Kingsley and McGonagall enter the room with pale faces and tight brows. Before any of them can start asking questions, Kingsley raises his hand to stop them. “Before you bombard me with questions, I’d like to get some things out of the way first.”

He looks over at them one by one, making sure they’re taking this seriously. “First of all, I would like to say that I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure that this trip has given you the time to make friends with one another, and I’m sorry that you had to go through what you did and lose someone so quickly. I may be the Minister, but at the moment I’m more like a puppet whose strings are being pulled. The Wizengamot is refusing to put an end to this sham, so unfortunately you will have to stay in the Muggle World until the month is over. I will leave your wands with you and permit the use of magic, for it looks like you will be needing the added protection.”

“That’s bullshite and you know it, Kings!” Harry yells with an edge in his voice. “You expect us to stay here and wait for the next attack to come? What are you thinking? Whoever that killer is obviously has a target, and they won’t stop until they get what they want!”

“I understand how this may be upsetting to you, Harry, I really do. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to convince them to allow you back until your designated time is already finished. You have two weeks left, and I won’t be leaving here without setting up protection.” Kingsley replies to him. It’s fucked up that the Minister of Magic has so little sway in the government that he holds the title to.

“We’ll be leaving a team of aurors in town. They will be staying at a motel,” McGonagall cuts in before the situation can escalate even further. “I’m just as upset about this as the rest of you, but there is nothing that can be done. The aurors will spend their time keeping a watch out around town, and they may even set up surveillance on this property.”

Blaise is taken aback by the Headmistress acting so calm. Did she not just see what happened to Justin, and all they’re going to do is leave them with some shoddy team of aurors? She must be joking.

“I will have the same team of aurors set up wards around the property,” Kingsley says while running tired hands down his face. “There is little we can do until I have a proper sit down with the old bats on the Wizengamot. I’ll try to convince them to allow you to come back, but if you want to graduate from Hogwarts, I would suggest you stay here.”

“No,” Hermione says with a flat voice, surprising all of them. “You will not allow any of the aurors to set up wards around my property. I’ll allow them to set up one ward and that’s it, so make sure they choose wisely.”

“And why is that, Miss Granger?” Mcgonagall asks, sounding aghast at denying their protection. Even Kingsley looks confused. Blaise doesn’t entirely blame them for looking at her like that, since he’s wondering just why she would do such a thing either. He’s sure that she has her reasons, but he can admit it sounds bad for her to deny them added protection after what has happened.

“I don’t trust anyone's wards besides my own,” Hermione says with surety, sharing a look with Harry that Blaise will never begin to understand. “I’ll be setting them up on my own. I’ll have someone in the group help me, but the aurors will not be adding their magical signature. No offense, Kings, but I’m not betting on our safety when people from the ministry are involved.”

The minister looks at her with gentle understanding and a smirk. “Good choice, Hermione. Mad-Eye would be proud.”

“Thanks,” she says sheepishly and looks out the window with a slight blush on her cheeks. “Is there anything else we need to know before you take your leave?”

The Minister sobers up immediately. The wizard stands tall and looks at each of them once again. “I know that you want to figure out who has done this, but I must warn you not to get involved. You are all adults, and if you get yourself involved in something you’re not supposed to, I won’t be able to help. Especially if you get caught. You can expect a one way trip to Azkaban, and I won’t be able to do anything to stop it.”

They all nod in agreement, but Harry and Hermione seem forced into doing so. The eye contact they share shows that they’re on a different page than the others. Whatever they’re planning, Blaise wants to know about it. As the Minister takes his leave with the Headmistress, the group remains in uneasy silence. Hermione stands up shakily and leaves the room, her hand supporting her along the wall. Many eyes follow her, wondering if she’s going to break down.

Without thinking much about it, Blaise rises from his seat and follows after her, ignoring his friends as they warn him against it. It’s about time for the witch to allow her emotions out. She’s been holding strong for too long, and she deserves time to grieve. If he didn’t at least try to help her, he would feel like a complete tosser.

Blaise can only hope that she will allow him to do that much.


	12. Chapter 12

The panic attack took longer to hit than she thought it would. The image of Justin’s remains replay over and over in her head. It isn’t fair, and she should have knew that life isn’t fair in the least. The war is over and they got too comfortable with their peace. She idly wonders if maybe - just maybe - she did something so horribly wrong in her past life that karma decided to come after her. It’s not that she thinks that she has it horrible in comparison to others - just look at what happened to Justin - but it seems as if she can’t catch a break. She was finally happy and it’s like the world was warning her not to get too comfortable.

Ironic as it is, she decides that she’ll heed that warning with everything she has in her. Both the warning from the world and the warning written on the wall with blood.

As her chest compresses, she thinks back to the time when she hugged Justin’s mother and father and promised that she’d keep an eye on him. How is she supposed to face them now? How is she supposed to look at them in the eye and tell them that she did everything she could, but their son is dead anyways?

She barely makes it through her bathroom door before she’s bending over the toilet and throwing up. She throws up until she can barely breath, until her throat feels like sandpaper. She feels a hand settle on her back, and another holds her hair back while she clutches to the toilet bowl like a lifeline. Her hands shake with the effort to hold on. She doesn’t have it in her to look behind her and check who it is. All she can see beneath closed eyelids is Justin’s face forever frozen in terror, eyes blown wide and mouth open in the process of screaming in pain.

Her body feels weak, and if there is one thing Hermione hates more than anything, it’s being weak. That doesn’t stop her from taking comfort in the hand rubbing circles on her back and whispering empty platitudes. It doesn’t matter that everything is _not_ going to be alright, she’ll take the words speaking the opposite as the help that she needs to get herself back together.

She heaves until she has nothing left to throw up and all she can taste is stomach acid on her tongue. Pulling the strength from the person behind her, she leans back on her knees and looks up with empty eyes and an even emptier soul. The hands stop rubbing and they let go of her hair, but the concerned ocean blue eyes still swim before her vision. 

“You okay, _mia cara_?” he asks with a gentle tone. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Hermione sits back on her haunches and stretches her legs out to relieve the ache from kneeling on the granite tile. It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but she asks him to go and grab her a glass of water. With one more concerned look, he paces out of the room with measured foot steps.

The ache in her bones settles deep as she steps up to the sink and looks into the mirror. Knowing that she looks a fright, Hermione runs the water in the tap and brings it up to her face. By the time Blaise comes back with a glass of water, Hermione is busy brushing her teeth. Hearing footsteps, she looks up into the mirror and notices him standing behind her with furrowed brows. For some odd reason, she gets the urge to run her thumb over his brow in order to smooth it out, but she ignores it. Her father always said that she had a habit of taking care of others, even at the cost of her own well-being.

Blaise waits for her to finish brushing her teeth and hands the glass of water over to her. The water sliding down her throat provides instant relief against the burn, and she has to force herself to keep drinking it. The pain is a reminder that she failed, and even though she knows it’s unhealthy, it keeps her focused on the problem at hand.

“Thank you, Blaise,” she says as she walks back into her room. Taking a seat at the edge of her bed, she sets the glass on her nightstand and runs her fingers through her mass of curls. “We should go get those wards up now.”

Blaise walks over and perches on her bed. He’s not close enough to cause any discomfort, but he sits at just the right distance to give the message that he’s there if she need him. “You should take a second to breath. Don’t worry about the wards until you’re ready.”

Fighting the urge to snap at him, she looks over at his squarely. “I don’t have the time to sit back and act like nothing has happened. Justin just got murdered in the middle of the night. _Murdered_ , Blaise. Those wards need to come up before the killer comes back.”

“Calm down, _mia cara_ ,” he shushes her gently, hands raised in surrender. “Whoever it is won’t be back so soon with aurors around and you know it.”

“I don’t like not knowing who it is,” she groans and shoots up from her bed in a panic and starts to pace. “You guys should leave and get somewhere safe. I think they’re after me, and I know I’m not the only one thinking it. If you guys leave, you won’t be put in danger.”

He gives her a look filled with stubborn denial. “I won’t speak for everyone, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to leave you here to deal with this on your own. Let us help you figure it out.”

“You don’t get it, Blaise!” she shouts desperately, hands flailing around in front of her. “It’s not your responsibility. Justin’s already dead, and I can’t have anyone else dying when I can prevent it. I was too late to save Justin, but all of you have a chance to get away.”

“Careful,” Blaise chides her with an eyebrow raised. “Your Gryffindor pride is showing. How do you know that they’re after you? Many of us have done something to piss off the Death Eaters. It would be best for all of us to stick together.”

“This has nothing to do with my pride! This has everything to do with the message written on the wall. I’m pretty sure the word Mudblood applies to only two of us in the house, and you heard Dean. He has no enemies.”

“He doesn’t _think_ he has any enemies,” he corrects her sternly. “They could be after anybody.”

She clenches her fists tightly and sits back down on the bed. “He died for nothing. Someone wrote a message on the wall, which points out that they’re targeting someone. He didn’t have to die in order to deliver a warning.”

“Since when have Death Eater motives made sense?” Blaise asks while he eyes her knowingly. “It’s not your fault, Hermione. You don’t have to shoulder this on your own.”

Humiliatingly, tears gather in her eyes. “At the beginning of the school year before we got onto the train, his parents asked me to keep an eye on him.”

Blaise’s face twists in anguish. Not because of his own feelings, but because he feels for her. It helps calm her heart knowing that he understands where her self-hatred comes from. Logically, she knows that what happened to him wasn’t her fault, but she promised that she’d keep an eye on him, and now she will have to live with the fact that he’s dead and she did nothing to stop it.

“Tell me about him,” he requests gently and scoots over to her. He wraps his arms around her and places her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t know him very well, but I noticed the two of you were close.”

She sniffles and tries to hold in the sobs wanting to escape. “We weren’t the best of friends, but a lot of the Muggle-born families would meet up at the same time at the train station. All of our parents formed a support group so they could talk about magic and spend time with each other while us kids were at Hogwarts. It was hard for them having to hide such a huge part of their lives, so they would all meet up as friends dealing with the same situation. It made it easier for them to have to say goodbye to us kids for most of the year.”

Justin came from a rich family, so they are very posh and sometimes stuck up, but they are a good sort. She wants to say that his parents will be furious with her, but she knows they won’t hold it against her.

“Justin and I got along really well. We knew we wouldn’t get sorted into the same house - he was a Hufflepuff through and through - but we kept in contact and studied together in the library,” she says with a small smile on her face, relishing in the feeling of his arm around her. “I didn’t see much of him once the war started, and after my parents died, we didn’t see each other on breaks either.”

Blaise rubs her back in circles and she practically melts into his side. She knows it’s wrong to feel so comfortable after what happened, but she knows she can’t punish herself for it.

“Will it make you feel better if we went to go see his parents?” Blaise asks her with some doubt.

“No,” she shakes her head slightly. “It’d be best if we gave them some time. I’m sure Kingsley is on his way to give them the news.”

His arm relaxes again, showing her that he’s just as uncomfortable seeing Justin’s parents as her. It warms her heart that he suggested it despite his own feelings, though. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

They both sit there in silence while her breathing evens out. Nothing needs to be said. Hermione’s respect for Blaise reaches higher than it ever has before. Harry, Ron and Dean know that when she’s upset, she likes to be on her own, but having him there for support is worth more than anything. It takes an exceptional man to stick by her while she rages at the world.

It makes her think back to what she said when she first found out about their trip to the Muggle World. She thought that she wouldn’t be able to forgive them for the things they’d done, but this proves to her that under all of the mystery surrounding the three Slytherin men, they have hearts and are capable of compassion. It’s been a slow process getting to know the three of them, but what she’s learned so far has been a surprise and she wants to know them more.

“Tell me about your family. Something good.” Hermione requests from him, hoping it will distract her from their current hell.

He looks at her strangely for a moment before he lets her go. He doesn’t question her reasoning, all he does is rests back on her bed. “I grew up in between Italy and Britain. My grandmother lives in Italy, and my mother spent her time in Britain. I met Draco and Theo when we were children due to my mothers friendship with their parents. My grandmother is the best person I’ve ever known. She loves her family fiercely, even when they screw up. Her and my mother have a rocky relationship, but ever summer she expects me to come live with her in the family manor right on the coast. My grandfather - who past away a few years ago - was a fisherman, which is ironic considering he was a wizard. Not many Pure-blood wizards spend their time doing anything the Muggle way.”

She hums contemplatively. “Was it his job, or was it a hobby?”

“It was a hobby of his. His father taught him when he was young, and it’s been a hobby passed down through the generations. Even me,” he says to her with a wry smile. “But I never got into it. Although I did have a new love for the ocean and all the different types of species you’ll find in it.”

“That sounds lovely,” she replies to him with a smile. “I’ve only been to Italy once on vacation, but I’d love to go again.”

Hermione spends time by listening to Blaise’s stories of growing up in Italy. It takes her mind off of Justin, and also gives her an idea of how he became the man he is today. The stories of his grandmother impress her the most considering how she sounds like a woman that Hermione would get along with. Listening to his stories remind her of what it was like to be innocent and carefree. A time where blood didn’t cover her hands. Her stomach rumbles when he talks of the Italian food his grandmother is famous for making, and it makes Blaise laugh lightly and stand up from the bed.

He holds his hand out to pull her up with him. “Let’s go get you some food, _mia cara_.”

“Blaise?” she says as they make their way out of her room. She pauses and puts her hand on his bicep and squeezes briefly. “Thank you for this. Truly.”

He raises his hand up to her face and strokes his thumb down her cheek fondly, and it causes her face to heat up. “Don’t mention it. Let’s go get something to eat, then we can worry about getting the wards set up.”

* * *

Theo is an absolute godsend. Blaise must have told him that she was craving Italian food, because he went straight to the kitchen and cooked up some pasta. It wasn’t the real thing, but the Italian dressing he uses with the noodles, tomatoes, cheese and olives sure made it taste good. It’s still surprising to her that he took to cooking so well. It’s one of her favorite parts of the day, being able to join him in the kitchen and watch his face light up with childlike glee when one of his meals turned out so well.

The rest of the group scarfed down the food with efficiency that Ronald would be proud of.

It wasn’t until Hermione was done bringing the dirty dishes into the kitchen that the subject of all their thoughts is brought up. The mood at the table goes from calm to strained in seconds.

“What are we going to do?” Harry questions from across the table. “Are we going to listen to Kingsley and stay out of it, or do you think we should investigate on our own?”

“There’s not much we can do,” Hermione speaks with reluctance. “They took Justin’s body and cleaned up the room, so we won’t have much to go on.”

Harry gives her a look filled with reproach. “I know you must have found something, ‘Mione. I may have froze, but I know you got a look around while we waited on the aurors.”

“I did find something,” she hesitates to tell them, not wanting to seem crazy. “But I don’t think that any of you will agree.”

Ronald huffs at her incredulously and crosses his arms. She doesn’t want to admit what she found out loud, because it shouldn’t be possible. “Just come out with it.”

Hermione looks at him with barely concealed anger. The wizard has always been able to push her buttons, and this time is no different. “It shouldn’t be possible is what I wanted to say. You’ll all think I’m crazy.”

“Whether you’re wrong or not doesn’t matter,” Draco puts his hand on her arm to interrupt her glaring contest with the redhead. “At least it’s something. It’s not like we have anything else to go on, especially since the aurors didn’t see fit to tell us anything.”

Hermione could surge forward and kiss him, but she won’t. Instead, she leans back in her seat and rubs a tired hand through her hair. “The burns on Justin’s body are reminiscent to the same burn I got at the battle in the Department of Mysteries.”

“The same as the spell Dolohov hit you with? I thought that was more of a cutting hex.” Harry asks with a pale face, eyes wide in horror. “And I thought you killed him in the final battle?”

She flinches and looks away, sweat beading on her brow. She’s never spoken a word to anyone about what happened with Dolohov in the final battle, and she wouldn’t say anything now. “That spell was one of his own creation. It cuts and burns with the same efficiency. The only difference from a cutting hex is that it’s not as concentrated. It’s meant to target the organs inside of your body as much as your skin.”

“Okay, that answers one of my questions, but what happened to him in the final battle?”

“I thought I did kill him, Harry,” she insists with worry lines showing on her face. “I didn’t use the killing curse, though. I caught him with a sectumsempra to the neck. I know that I hit a major artery which he shouldn’t have survived at all. It’s not like I checked his pulse before I ran off to find you.”

Harry looks over at her and his eyes soften at the sight of her so distressed. “Calm down, ‘Mione. I’m not blaming you for anything. Dolohov could have shared his spell with other Death Eaters, so it doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“I don’t think so,” Theo pipes up hesitantly, sharing a knowing look with Draco. “Dolohov kept his inventions close to his chest. The only person he shared his spells with was The Dark Lord.”

“Of course you’d know that, being a Death Eater yourself,” Ron’s face turns red in anger and his chest puffs out. “Am I the only one that thinks that these slimy snakes could be working with them? How did they find where we’re staying anyways?”

Theo’s eyes cool and his spine snaps straight. “If you think we have anything to do with this, your a bigger git than I thought.”

“All I’m saying is that this is suspicious. We didn’t tell anyone where we were staying before we left,” Ron says as he eyes him with distaste. Hermione debates whether or not she should interrupt before a full blown fight can occur.

“They didn’t tell them anything,” Dean says quietly before she can and her stomach drops. “The Death Eaters knew about this house long before we came here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asks softly with a confused look on his face.

“What he means is that our parents were killed in this house during the summer in our sixth year.” Hermione interrupts with a troubled expression.

Ron’s face pales and gains color rapidly as his temper starts. “Why’d you two bring us here then? You knew that they were still out there, and you still brought us here?”

“Oi,” Seamus barks in Dean’s defense. “That’s not fair. The Death Eater’s know where you live, and did that stop you from staying at your home after the war?”

“That’s not fair and you know it,” Ron rebukes. “I had magic when I went home. We didn’t have anything to protect ourselves with here.”

A dark chuckle sounds from her right, and she has to hold back her surprise when she sees Draco looking at Ron with something akin to ark humour. “You think the Death Eaters wouldn’t be able to find us if we stayed somewhere else? You need to grow up and use your brain, Weasel. We were the ones with the disadvantage without magic. They would have found us easily no matter where we chose to stay. At least we had the comfort of being somewhere familiar to Hermione and Dean.”

Hermione sighs as Ron stands up from the table to tower over Draco. Draco doesn’t look intimidated at all, which she internally claps for. Harry has had about enough judging by the stormy expression on his face. “That’s enough, Ron. Hermione tells you their parents were killed here and all you have to say is that she put us in danger? What is wrong with you?”

“That's it!” Hermione finally shouts from her seat. “Fighting isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

She waits for the table to quiet before she continues. “So far we can guess that Dolohov has something to do with Justin’s murder, and I recognized the writing on the wall, but I couldn’t guess from where. At least we have something to go on. If any of you want nothing to do with this, then we can find you somewhere safe to stay, but I don’t plan on leaving until we catch who did it.”

She looks at everyone only to see them shake their heads in denial. She wishes she could kick them out and tell them to get somewhere safe, but Blaise is right. They have a right to make a decision themselves. If they want to stay, she’ll allow it. She just wishes she wasn’t putting everyone in danger. She couldn’t look at herself in the mirror if she was responsible for another death.

“Now that everything is cleared up, I’m going to need help setting up wards. Who has experience with it?”

Theo raises his hand and clears his throat. “I’ve had some experience with it, but not much.”

Hermione stands up from the table and ignores Ron’s piercing look. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with his shite. “Okay, come with me then. We’ll start at the east side of the property.”

As she walks out the front door, she can’t help but think back to the handwriting on the wall. She knows it’s going to eat away at her until she can figure it out, and if she can remember, they’ll be one step closer to being safe again.


	13. Chapter 13

Another day has passed since Justin’s murder, and they’re no closer to figuring out who the murderer is. They’ve tried sending letters to the Ministry to ask if they’ve found anything, but all they get in return are letters saying that they’re still working on it. There’s no doubt in his mind that they’ve found something, especially since they have access to the resources that the rest of them lack, but they’re being tight lipped about it. 

Draco notices how the group starts weighing down with the weight of their need for information. Everyone - including himself - are feeling trapped in the house, but no one has been brave enough to suggest a trip outside of the protective wards. Hermione assures them that no one can get through those wards unless she allows it, and he believes her, but that doesn’t stop the feeling of being trapped. His mind constantly throws him back to the picture of Justin’s disfigured body, and there’s a voice in his head that questions who will be next.

With their magic back, they feel more comfortable in their ability to protect themselves, but going against a faceless enemy is intimidating. During the war, Draco knew who he was facing and he was able to prepare himself. This time it feels like he has to wait for the other shoe to drop and wait for them to come to him. They don’t even know how many enemies that they’re fighting against, for Merlin’s sake.

Draco knows that everyone feels the same unsettlement as him, so as he sits at the kitchen table, he decides to bring up an idea that’s been eating at him. Blaise and Theo sit on either side of him, while Hermione, Harry and Dean sit across from them. They’re at a face-off when he decides to mention what’s on his mind, and he can’t help but feel grateful that it’s only them in the room. Don’t get him wrong, there are others in the group with bright opinions and even brighter minds, but most of them won’t like what he’s about to say. If he can sway two halves of the Golden Trio, and Hermione’s chosen brother, then maybe it’ll be easier to convince the others.

He stirs his tea with a spoon as he drops sugar into the cup. “I think we should try to track the killer.”

His friends tense in their seats, but remain outwardly impassive. It would be best to show a united front when in front of the lions. He knows from experience that comradeship earns respect from the Gryffindors. Harry starts to sputter as he takes a drink of his tea which causes Granger to pat his back absentmindedly. She looks at him straight in the eye with zero judgment, which makes him relax knowing that she’s not going to go off on him with that temper of hers.

“What makes you think that would be a good idea, Malfoy?” Harry asks incredulously, still coughing up his tea.

“Hear me out before you start off on your righteous tirade, Scarhead. The aurors didn’t track outside of the property, all they did was investigate inside the bedroom that we found Justin in. Don’t you find that strange?”

“Kingsley wouldn’t have let them leave before he was sure they got everything,” He says while waving his hand dismissively. He speaks it with such certainty that Draco feels the slightest bit of pity for the Boy-Who-Lived. “Kingsley was the head auror before he got seated as the Minister.”

Draco brings his thumb and forefinger up to rub at the bridge of his nose. His long hair piles in front of his eyes, which hides his pained expression from view. It is comforting that one of the main players in the war can still embrace their naivety, but it will get them nowhere at the moment. “Look, Potter. I’m going to put this bluntly, so don’t let this affect your Gryffindor sentimentality too much. You can’t trust the ministry. It doesn’t matter that there’s a different Minister or not. The place is still as corrupt as it was before the war.”

Dean places a hand on Harry’s shoulder to stop him from jumping in at Kingsley’s defense. Once he’s sure that his friend isn’t going to blow up, he looks over to the three Slytherins and raises his eyebrows. “Kingsley told members of the order that he was getting rid of most of the corruption.”

“You don’t think it would be that easy, do you?” Theo huffs with amusement. “We’re talking about thousands of years of corruption all tied into one governing body.”

Hermione has a contemplating glint in her eyes that clues the men in that she’s using her beautiful brain to puzzle pieces together. Her eyes grow wide and she sits straight in her chair. Draco doesn’t think she’s ever looked as enticing as she does in this moment. Watching her mind whirl with a conclusion that only she figure out. It’s intimidating knowing that her mind works in such a different way than his, and he’ll never even scrape the surface if he tries to unravel it.

“Why didn’t we figure this out before?! It seems so obvious now that you’ve said something.” She brings a hand up to her forehead and groans. She turns to Harry and Dean with an absent look. “They’re right. We need to find a trail fast before they cover their tracks. I think we’re being set up.”

“Slow down and tell us what obvious revelation you’ve figured out, Granger.”

Hermione taps her fingers on the wood table and pulls on the end of her curls with the other hand. “We need to figure out who proposed this trip to the Muggle World requirement. It’s a brilliant trap that they’ve got us in, honestly.”

Draco’s face lights up with understanding. “You think that whoever set the requirements wanted us stranded without magic? It would make sense if they pressured Kingsley into agreeing to send us all out into a new world without defenses, especially if they’re working with escaped Death Eaters.”

Blaise and Theo curse colorfully, but Harry and Dean seem to be just now catching on to what they’re proposing. Draco watches as realization settles in and their faces pale. It was one thing knowing that they were going up against Death Eaters, but going up against the ministry is even worse. The Death Eaters held no power any longer after the war, but someone in a high position in the ministry holds a lot of sway.

“Kingsley mentioned that the Wizengamot were the ones that pressured him into it, so that narrows down our search tremendously,” Hermione says excitedly to him, causing his heart to skip. It’s exhilarating working together to come up with a solution. If this is how she felt every time she solved mysteries in school, he understands what was so appealing about it. “Now we don’t have to search through any other departments. Someone is going to have to go snoop around the ministry to see who still hold seats in the Wizengamot. Preferably someone with good standing as a heir or Lord of the family. It would be too suspicious for anyone else to infiltrate.”

Draco’s smile ticks wryly and he shakes his head. “That can’t be us. We may come from old families, but we have no standing to speak of after the trials. What about Longbottom or Lovegood?”

“No,” Harry tenses visibly, shaking off whatever thoughts that are clouding his mind. “Don’t send Luna, her family has no sway with the ministry. I’ll go with Neville.”

Hermione scoffs and crosses her arms. “Absolutely not. You wouldn’t make it one foot inside the ministry without someone recognizing you. It’d be a waste of time, and not to mention dangerous.”

“I still have my invisibility cloak, and if that won’t work, we can brew some polyjuice potion. I won’t allow you to send Luna in. It’s too dangerous.”

“Security is way too high after the war,” Blaise murmurs quietly, his head shaking in denial. “No offense, Potter, but the tricks you used in school won’t work there.”

Harry tilts his chin up squarely and looks at his new friend seriously. “If Hermione can fool the goblins into thinking she’s Bellatrix, I shouldn’t have any trouble using it to get in the ministry.”

“First of all, you’re going to have to tell me that story later,” Blaise looks at Hermione pointedly, and he can’t help but agree. Draco learns more interesting tales to ask her about every day. “Second of all, why don’t we just ask the lovely Susan to go with Neville? They’re practically attached at the hip, and her aunt was apart of the aurors office. She may be comfortable with her way around ministry.”

Draco nods approvingly. It sounds like a solid plan to him. “That sounds smart to me. Only a select few of us will have to leave the wards to see if there’s any tracks left by the killer. Neville and Susan can use the floo to get into the ministry.”

“Why don’t you three come with me to see if we find any tracks?” Hermione asks the Slytherin wizards with an inquiring eyebrow raised. “I know this property like the back of my hand.”

The three of them nod in acceptance, ignoring the bewildered looks that they get in return from the two other wizards sitting at the table.

“Let’s go then,” Hermione stands up and heads to the sliding glass door that leads to the back patio. Pausing in her steps, she looks back at Harry and Dean before rushing over to give them tight hugs. “I promise I’ll be careful. Why don’t you two go ask Neville if he’s alright with the plan? If he is, then tell them I said to be careful and don’t get caught. If Kingsley catches them snooping, we may as well consider ourselves done for.”

“Wait!” Harry cries out unexpectedly and kisses her on the temple with brotherly affection. “If you need us, don’t hesitate to send a patronus.”

Hermione gives Harry a reassuring smile and allows Dean to give her the same treatment. She makes eye contact with Draco and sends him a jaunty wink over their shoulders. He chuckles quietly to himself, knowing that while she acts long-suffering about their fussing, she appreciates it all the same.

* * *

“There’s no sign of forced entry, which isn’t surprising considering whoever did this had access to magic,” Hermione hums contemplating before turning to the three of them. “Are any of you advanced at sensing magical signatures or residual magic?”

Draco shakes his head negatively, inwardly cursing himself for not being prepared. He looks over at Theo who is looking smug given that he’s had experience in this before. Draco wants to shout at him that tracking was what he did as a Death Eater, and he shouldn’t feel superior about his skills considering what he did with them, but he refuses to be that cruel. He’ll allow his friend to be preen and show off a little to the witch of his affections, but his friend better give him the same courtesy when his turn comes.

Sharing an eye roll with Blaise, Draco shoves his smug mate in the shoulder and tells him to get on with it. Theo finally starts to concentrate, which gives Draco the opportunity to sidle up the witch and engage her in his awkward attempt at conversation. He knows that they’re far from being the best of friends, but he’s enjoyed the time he’s had with her. If it wasn’t such a grim time, he may have already tried to beat his mates at making a move on her. It's not that he views her as a conquest, especially since he has a genuine need to know her better. He'd enjoy exploring the chemistry they have together.

The tiniest brush of skin against one another is enough to set his blood on fire. Merlin, the witch is driving him mad. When they bicker, he feels the air around them charge with energy. When their eyes meet and hold, he swears that it’s the most stimulating sensation he’s ever felt.

Draco’s been with his fair share of woman ever since he lost his virginity to Pansy Parkinson in his fifth year, but he’s never felt the same connection he feels with Granger. After the war, he found that fucking his way through witches and drinking Firewhisky was the best way to cope with his own inadequacy, but the touch of her arm brushing against his made him feel like a prepubescent boy fumbling his way through his first shag.

It isn’t just the physical connection they share that endears him to her. He feels a pull whenever they debate or argue over pointless issues. Their intellectual battles make his heart sing with the need to tip her backwards and kiss her until she forgets every single witty response waiting to escape from her sharp tongue. She’s wild and sensual and everything that he’s ever wanted in a witch. It’s too bad that she’s everything he can never have. 

Draco focuses on the task at hand and decides to push away his thoughts for further examination. He rocks back on his heels and shoves his hands in his jean pockets. “What else should we be searching for?”

“I’m not really sure,” Hermione looks up at him sharply and tucks a strand of curls behind her ear. “I don’t have much experience with tracking. I don’t see any footprints, which is a given considering the dry weather we’ve had the for the last couple weeks. Once we get into the trees, I think the terrain will be much more telling if someone traveled on foot.”

“I’m hoping that’s the case,” he admits freely. “It’ll be much harder to find them if they traveled by broom. I’m sure they used apparition at some point, but someone would have woken up if it was close to the house.”

“Who are the most popular Death Eaters who escaped prison or death during the battle? This seems like a personal vendetta to me, and if we can narrow it down to those who Dean or I have pissed off, that’d be great.”

Draco furrows his brows in thought back to the trials and the end of the battle. There aren't many high profile Death Eaters who escaped. Most of them were in the lower ranks and ran at the first sign that the Dark Lord was losing. “Thorfinn Rowle, Scabior, Yaxley, and Mulciber are the highest members in the ranks that I know escaped.”

“Rowle and Yaxley shouldn’t remember our encounter at all,” Hermione speaks to herself, but he overhears. “I obliviated them, and I know I’m proficient with memory charms. Scabior was one of the snatchers who caught us in the forest, but I never did anything to him to make him hold a grudge. Mulciber was there in the department of mysteries, but he stayed out of the way mostly.”

Draco shakes his head incredulously and clears his throat. “Just how many Death Eaters have you encountered?”

“Too many to count,” Hermione says with a wry smile, her attention moving back to him. “I could go on all day listing names. Voldemort had a much bigger following than many thought.”

Draco nods his head in agreement and feels pride at the way he was able to hold in his flinch at the sound of his name. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to hear the name and not automatically feel like scratching at his arm. Hermione must notice his surprise, because she settles a hand on the arm scorched with the dark mark. Using her thumb, she rubs back and forth in a comforting gesture. He has to hold in his shuddering breath knowing that she’ll pull away if she sees how much she affects him.

“He doesn’t have a hold on you anymore, you know that right?” she asks with a comforting smile. “I may be overstepping, but I’d like to think we’re friends now, and as a friend I feel like it’s my job to tell you that his name isn’t worth fear. You said once that my scars didn’t bother you, and you should know that yours don’t bother me either.”

“This isn’t a scar, Hermione,” he swallows heavily, hoping she doesn’t hear his voice choking up and gives her a bitter smile. “It’s nothing to be proud of like yours.”

Hermione scowls at him with surprising ferocity and taps the mark on his arm without any sign of discomfort. “This dark mark right here is proof that you survived just as much as my own scars are. It may have been in a different way, but it’s all the same.”

“You were one of the good guys, Granger. Don’t be naive and think that the mark on my arm had anything to do with survival.” Draco sneers at her, feeling the same surge of energy when they argue.

She hums dismissively and lets go of his arm, and he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he misses her touch immediately. “Want to know a secret, Draco? There were no good guys in the war. We all have blood on our hands for selfish reasons, it didn’t matter what side we were on. Of course that doesn’t mean that there weren’t people who were worse than others, but I know for a fact that you weren’t one of them.”

“You have blood on your hands from trying to protect the ones you love, and in my eyes that makes you one of the good guys!”

“How is that any different from you?” she asks with gentle sarcasm. “You were trying to protect your family in the only way you knew how, just as I did.”

“Over here!” Theo yells excitingly, interrupting his rebuttal. “We’ve got residual magic surrounding the window leading to the second floor hallway.”

“Not the bedroom?” Hermione asks with confusion as she walks away from him, forgetting about their own conversation in favor of finding more clues.

Draco should feel insulted that she walked away from their conversation, but he knows that their task is much more important than squabbling over their morals. As he watches her and Theo collaborate back in forth in fast pace tones and wild hand gestures, he thinks about what she told him. He knows that he’ll never forgive himself for the things he’s done, but knowing someone out there can find it within themselves to forgive him gives him hope. The forgiveness is wrongly placed, but it doesn’t stop his shoulders from feeling lighter.

“She’s right you know,” Blaise says as he steps up to his side. “You’re going to have to forgive yourself one day.”

“I know that,” Draco replies with solemnity. “I don’t think that’s going to be any time soon, though.”

Blaise claps him on the shoulder and faces him with a smirk. “I know some girls may be into the whole brooding and mysterious aura you give off, but I don’t think she’s one of them.”

“Bugger off,” Draco smirks with reluctant amusement and stands up straighter. “Who said anything about trying to impress her anyways?”

They both look in her direction and watch as she attempts to climb the tree next to the window. However, her efforts are futile. Her foot misses the branch and Theo has to hurry to catch her before she falls. His hand lands on her arse on accident - judging by the the look of shock on his face - and she turns around and scolds at him. Theo brushes it off rather smoothly and smirks back at her with heat in his eyes. They can’t tell what he’s saying to her, but judging on the way he puffs out his chest, it must be something conceited. The witch rolls her eyes and tries to climb back up the tree. Draco and Blaise share a look filled with amusement, no jealousy to be found.

“I think any sane bloke would want to impress her,” Blaise praises with a small smile. “If you don’t keep up, Theo and I are going to steal her away.”

“Oh?” Draco questions with a warning in his voice. “Is this turning into a competition? I'm not sure she would like that very much if she found out.”

“Of course not, mate. I’m just warning you that Theo and I are already on a quest to steal her heart. If you don’t keep up, you’re going to miss out.” Blaise’s smile is all teeth, which tells him to heed his own warning. Keep up or get left behind is what his mate is trying to tell him.

Draco wants to be angry - he does - but he can’t blame his two friends. She’s the type of witch you fight for, and he can only hope that he doesn’t lose his friendships with them in the process.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give my thanks to my loyal readers for hanging on to this story even when there has been so many changes. Frankly, this story was going to start out with more humorous and relaxing moments for the characters, but I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry if you couldn't continue reading. Let's just hope I haven't bitten off more than I can chew with this story. 
> 
> I know many of you have your own theories, so I won't be replying to some of your comments. I don't want to give anything away before the time comes. Enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! I love reading comments. 
> 
> P.S. Chapter updates may slow down just a tad considering I just got hired for a new job. I'm hoping it won't cut into my writing time too much.

__ Astoria Greengrass feels a current of white hot rage run through her body as she watches out the window. It’s no secret that she’s been trying to bag one of the handsome Slytherin wizards, and the bushy haired know-it-all has been ruining her chance. She sees the way Draco watches the witch as if she’s his last meal. Astoria knows she’s a catch, but the wizards seem to brush off all her attempts at seducing them. Merlin, she’s tried showing off her wealth - which should be a plus for any heir of one of the sacred twenty-eight - and it’s as if it doesn’t matter at all. 

Just a couple days ago, she glided around the house in an emerald green sundress that showed way more skin than any witch had a right to show. The Slytherin wizards hardly spared her a second glance. It seems that their eyes are stuck on the mudblood who hardly puts any effort into her appearance at all.

The slag walks around the house daily in jean shorts and frumpy shirts, sometimes wearing those atrocious muggle overalls. Astoria is woman enough to admit that those jean overalls show every curve that Granger owns, but what kind of witch preferred jeans over dresses or silk robes? All the Muggle-born’s jeans have holes in the knees or holes right underneath her arse cheeks. They look worn right down to the last thread, so how is that enough to catch the wizards eyes?

Even Weasley can hardly stop his eyes from wandering as soon as the slag enters the room! It just isn’t fair!

Every single trick her mother taught her to gain a wizards attention has been for naught. In her mother's words, wizards of high standing will spend as much time with the looser witches around Hogwarts, but they will always come back for the elegant ladies. No matter how much time they spent here in the dirty Muggle World, Astoria is always sure to use the manners expected of her station, but Draco Malfoy has hardly lifted a brow. Daphne and Pansy have been trying the same, she knows, but they’ve had just as much luck as herself. Pansy had set her eyes on Draco, which is no surprise considering the obsession she’s always held for him, but lately her friends eyes have been straying in the direction of Blaise.

Astoria doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s useless. The wizard has been under Granger’s thumb since the moment she rubbed herself against him at the club. She certainly hadn’t expected him to chase after her when the Minister left the other day, but she allowed herself an internal victory dance. Maybe if the man himself got his teeth sunk in the witch, the blonde wizard will come to her for comfort. She obviously thought wrong judging by the love sick expression on his face as he watches the bushy haired bitch climb the tree.

Astoria growls in frustration while her eyes refuse to leave the scene. She doesn’t spare the redhead next to her a look even when his white knuckled fist comes up to rest next to the window pane. The wizard curses colorfully, spittle flying out of his mouth rather unattractively. “You need to keep your Death Eater boyfriends away from her, witch.”

That does enough to bring her furious green eyes to his face.

“I think you need to keep a leash on your mudblood pet,” she sneers at the wizard while looking him up and down with disgust in her eyes. “Just look at her out there practically hanging off of them.”

“She wouldn’t touch those bastards with her wand, let alone hang all over them.”

Astoria raises a patronizing eyebrow and looks out in the garden pointedly. “Is that right? Then how do you explain that, Weasley?”

Right at that moment, the witch slips from the tree and steadies herself on Nott’s shoulders, allowing him to keep his hand on her arse. Astoria laughs lightly and continues with obvious hatred in her tone. “You have the least brains out of the Golden Trio, but even you should know that Granger wouldn’t let anyone get away with that without sending a nasty hex their way. If you’re still confident that she’s not into them, you’re delusional.”

“What are you going to do about it, Greengrass?” he asks with anger coloring his face and voice. “Everyone knows that even though your daddy is in prison snogging the dementors, you’re still chasing after any cock that can give you the most galleons.”

Astoria flinches from the cruel words, but it makes her respect the wizard standing next to her a little bit more. It would hardly be any fun if she didn’t get a challenge. “Tell me you’re not chasing the mudblood for her looks. We both know it’s the security she can give you with the white picket fence and a brood of red headed children. I could go so far as to say you're chasing her pussy just as much as I’m chasing the fortune one of their cocks can provide me.”

“‘Mione is one of my best friends,” Ron snorts and shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with what I can get out of her, it has everything to do with how much we belong together.”

“You must be joking,” she tilts her her and looks at him incredulously. “Wake up, Weasley. You’re two ‘best friends’ have been replacing you this whole time and you haven’t noticed it?”

His face falls shortly before it arranges itself into denial. “No. No, you’re just trying to get into my head like the slimy snake that you are.”

“The proof has been right in front of you. Where were you when your two best friends were making decisions with Dean Thomas? What about when they were investigating Justin’s murder yesterday?”

“I’ve been busy making sure everyone stays calm,” he puffs his chest out in pride. “It’s something you wouldn’t understand.”

Astoria places a perfectly manicured hand on his arm delicately. She pats it absently as she watches the four of them disappear into the trees. “If that’s what you want to believe, then so be it, but from where I’m standing it looks like they’re leaving you with all the grunt work.”

Weasley’s eyes fill with doubt. His blue eyes really are appealing, it’s just too bad he comes from such a poor family.

Triumph fills her as she watches the emotions fly across his face. She’s planted the seed, now all she has to do is wait for it to grow. He was correct in assuming that she was trying to get into his head. Slytherin is her house after all, and she couldn’t wait to watch the cards fall. Entertainment is sparse in this house, it’s just an extra benefit that she may get what she wants if everything happens the way she’s hoping for.

* * *

Theo’s foot taps against the hardwood floor, following the same irritated beat of his heart. Neville and Susan haven’t arrived back yet, and he’s starting to worry. It’s been a couple hours since he’s gotten back from trying to track the killer (or killers based off of what he’s found in the woods), and they decided not to tell anyone what they found until everyone sat down together to discuss it. What he found fills him with a deep sense of dread, and he’s not looking forward to telling anyone else. There is enough fear clinging on their backs, they don’t need to add this to it.

“Would you quit making that awful noise, Theodore?” Pansy drawls with impatience lacing her tone. “I know you like bothering everyone with your irritating presence, but must you be so obvious?”

“Of coarse, your majesty,” he taps his foot faster, filling the room with louder noise. “I live to cater to your requests.”

Pansy crosses her arms and looks away with a scoff. “Go ahead and act like an insolent brat, see if I care.”

“I didn’t know you had such an immense vocabulary, Pansy. Tell me, aren’t those words a little advanced for you?”

“Just because we have to slum it with such uncivilized company doesn’t mean I will lose my intelligence. I know you must be worried about yours with the company you keep.” Pansy says to him while shooting Hermione a dismissive glance.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Draco teases her with amusement. “There’s no reason to act so petty, Pans. Everyone in this room knows your intelligence doesn’t hold a candle to Theo or Granger.”

“Shut up, you prat!” Pansy sputters, her face turning red with indignation. The room fills with snickers.

Theo chuckles lowly and uses his tea cup to hide his smile. She makes it too easy to mess with her. Many would think that she’d have learned that they would pounce on her anytime she opened her mouth. It isn’t that she asks for it specifically, but she really is an easy target. Some people may call it cruel, but to them, it’s all in good fun. If anything, she’s the cruel one. Theo usually stays out of it, but when she’s being unnecessarily cruel, he enjoys taking her down a peg. Once a harpy always a harpy.

Theo has known the witch since he was a child and his mother dragged him around to multiple tea parties. Unfortunately, he’s had to endure her presence ever since. Theo, Draco and Blaise used to sneak to whoever's room and pray to the gods that she wouldn’t find them. There was one time when Pansy sunk her claws into an unfortunate Draco and tried to play dress up with him. This was a time when accidental magic was an often occurrence. Her magic sensing her intent, she was able to bind Draco and apply her mother's hair products to his blonde locks. Now that he thinks about it, that’s probably when his friend became so obsessed with his hair. Theo swears the blonde still has nightmares about it.

Now that he’s thought about it, Theo wonders how their other friends are hanging on. “Has anyone sent letters out anywhere besides the ministry?”

Draco and Blaise shake their head, but Harry speaks up with reluctance. “I know we agreed that we shouldn’t send any owls out, but I needed to get a hold of Charlie.”

Theo shouldn’t be surprised that he’s the one who broke their agreement, it’s so typical of a Gryffindor. What he is surprised by is the flash of rage that passes over Weasley’s face at the mention of his brother. “You wrote to my brother without telling me about it first?”

“Yes?” Harry questions hesitantly and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know I needed to consult you about it.”

He doesn’t know what the issue is, but he feels uneasy with the smug look that Astoria sends the redhead. He makes a mental notes to keep an eye out on her. Nothing good comes from her meddling.

Ron sits up straight in his chair and looks at his mate with cool eyes. “Right. There’s no reason to tell me when you write to my own brother, Harry.”

“What’s your problem, mate?” Harry asks as he looks confused.

“Nothing is my problem,” Ron murmurs and looks away from him and over to his other friend. “Have you been in contact with my family without my knowing as well, ‘Mione?”

“Yes, Ronald,” she rolls her eyes sarcastically. “I owl your mother and father every day.”

Theo sees his jaw clench tightly and knows that whatever is on his mind is nothing good. It could have to do with their dwindling friendship, or something more sinister. There’s no telling if Astoria is involved. It’s just what they need. Honestly. They’ve got a killer coming after them, and they spend their time arguing.

“Oh, yeah? What do those letters say?”

“How about you stop pussy footing around and tell us what’s got your wand in a knot?” Hermione asks with frustration, clearly fed up with his attitude. Not that he could blame her.

“You two haven’t told me anything since we’ve been here!” Ronald yells aggressively. “We’re in the Muggle World for barely three weeks and you’re already leaving me out of everything!”

“What do you expect us to do, Ron?” Harry question with genuine confusion. “Invite you into a room full of blood and cut up body parts? We figured you’d come in if you wanted to. It’s not like we’re going to force you into anything if you don’t take the initiative yourself.”

Many faces pale with Harry’s unknowing bluntness. Theo wants to smack him across the head knowing that not everyone knew exactly what happened to Justin. They kept it that way for a reason. Many of the others didn’t want to know the details.

Ron’s face turns green, but he holds his own. “You could’ve asked me for help, though!”

“We had it covered,” Hermione sighs with irritation. “If we needed your expertise, we would have come to you.”

Dean elbows her in the side and whispers something that makes her roll her eyes. This seems to enrage the wizard even more. “Is that why you had Dean sticking to your side the whole time?”

“Come off it, Ron,” Dean states with an incredulous face. “They didn’t ask me to do anything for them. If you remember correctly, I was the one waking your lazy arse up when you didn’t hear the screams.”

“You’re mental if you think I’m going to sit around and let you treat me like rubbish!” Ron growls and storms out of the room. It doesn’t take long for Astoria to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Theo turns his head to her and gives her a glare. He has a feeling that whatever insecurities rose from Weasley’s temper had to do with her. “What did you do, witch?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she questions innocently, but he doesn’t buy it. “I just find it funny that the Golden Trio isn’t so golden, that’s all.”

“Right,” Theo scoffs incredulously. “You expect me to believe that when you’ve been sitting there the entire time looking like the kneazle that caught the rat?”

“My sister didn’t do anything, Theo.” Daphne says in her sisters defense. It doesn’t matter if she wants to jump his bones or not, she’ll still stick up for her sister.

Instead of responding to her, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Astoria knowing that she's an expert on how to play games with the best of them, but she still squirms uncomfortably under his gaze. There’s nothing that Theo could do to get information out of the bitch, but he likes that she knows he’s catching onto her. Draco elbows him in the side when the witch starts to rise from her seat. “Lay off a bit, mate. She’ll slip up at some point.”

They watch as the witch glides out of the room with the same amount of self-importance as a hippogriff. He can hardly stand the witch, and she knows it. The other witches including her have stayed out of their way for most of the trip - much to his appreciation - but he knows that they’re just waiting for the right moment to strike. His instincts warn him that she’s somehow got the redhead involved in her plans, and they’ve never lead him astray before.

Draco straightens his collar and gives him a look filled with reproach. “What happened to Slytherins talking their issues out in private?”

“I don’t know what makes you think I’d want to be anywhere private with her,” Theo hums in response. “Seriously, though. We don’t need her manipulative shite when we’ve got so much on our plate already. I can smell her schemes coming from a mile away.”

“I’m not sure what that was, but it had Astoria written all over it,” Blaise concurs wisely. “Think she’s turning Weasley against the others?”

Theo thinks he may be right about that. He sure didn’t miss the shared looks the two were sending each other. Merlin save them all if he’s right about his suspicions. Those two together barely have enough brains to rub together, but the blonde witch is a Slytherin for a reason. They’ll have to be cautious. Hermione must feel the same with the way she’s watching the witch leave the room, eyes filled with suspicion. She doesn’t look too bothered by the tantrum Weasley through - she’s probably used to it - but Harry seems to be just as lost as when the fight started.

Shaking off any lingering thoughts, Theo turns back to the table just in time to witness Hermione smack Harry up the head. “What did you send Charlie, you big oaf?”

“Bloody hell, 'Mione!” Harry cries out and covers his head. “I just asked him about Death Eater sightings. It’s not like we’re getting any information just sitting around here all day.”

“You could have risked us and him. You better pray that those owls don’t get tracked. We set those rules for a reason.”

“They already know where we’re staying, ‘Mione.”

The two bicker back in forth before Hermione throws her hands up in defeat. “Fine. I know you don’t understand why we shouldn’t send any letters out, but you better be careful. All of you. They may know where we’re at, but keep in mind that you could be sending them straight to where your letters are going.”

“I’m sorry, ‘Mione. I should have talked to you about it first.” Harry says as his shoulder droop.

“Floo calls would be a much safer route,” Theo murmurs in support of the witch. “But some of us need to get a hold of our friends and family, and we don’t know if they have any floo networks set up. I’m sure the Minister warned them, but I’d like to know they’re alright for myself.”

Hermione gives him a thankful smile. “Go for it. Both my fireplaces are connected to the floo, so two people can go at a time.”

Draco and Ginny jump up from their seats and race out of the room, leaving the rest of them floundering to stand up. Theo heaves a sigh and sits back in his chair. “Well that decides that then. Now all we’ve got to do is wait on Neville and Susan.”

* * *

The sharp crack of apparition is the only warning they get before Susan and Neville are rushing through the front door. Susan’s face is pale, and Neville has sweat dripping down his brow. He has his arm wrapped around Susan securely, looking afraid to let her go. Theo has a sinking feeling developing in his stomach.

“Is everything alright, Neville?” Hermione asks and jumps from her seat. “We were expecting you back ages ago. Why didn’t you use the floo?”

Neville breathes heavily and collapses on the chair, pulling Susan down with him. “We had to make a quicker get away. It’s a good thing you added our magical signatures to the anti-apparition wards.”

“What happened, mate?” Blaise asks first with a worried frown. It still baffles him that his mate has found a good friend in the Gryffindor.

“We got caught,” Neville moans in despair. “It wasn’t Kingsley, but that old hag in the Wizengamot.”

Susan rubs his back up and down in a gesture of comfort. “We overheard a conversation between her and one of the other witches that holds a seat. It doesn’t look like Kingsley cleaned up the Wizengamot as well as he promised.”

“Who was it?” Theo asks, bracing himself for an answer he knows he won’t like.

“It’s Umbridge,” Neville’s lips are set in a grim line as he answers. “I’m not sure how she still holds her seat, or even how she got let out of Azkaban, but she was there.”

Hermione blows out a long breath and taps her fingers nervously on the table. “If anyone is working with the Death Eaters it’s her. What was the conversation you heard about?”

“She was talking to someone about a raid. We couldn’t quite catch a look at the other witch’s face, but even if we did I don’t think we’d have recognized her. We couldn’t hear much, but the raid is going to happen in a few days. She caught us milling about outside in the hallway by the time their conversation was over.”

Susan brushes a strand of hair off of her face. “I don’t think she knew we were there to eavesdrop on her conversation. I’m not even sure she recognized who we were. She just shouted that she was going to get security since we had no visitor badges. We didn’t have time to reach the floo with her on our tail. We found the next open apparition spot and came here.”

“I’m more worried about how she got out of Azkaban. Wasn’t she arrested after the final battle?” Theo asks anxiously.

“Yes,” Hermione says grimly. “They didn’t catch her on Voldemort’s side, though. Umbridge didn't have the time to take the mark when she was in the mental ward at St. Mungo's. She got put on trial for being a Death Eater, but she didn’t have a mark. I assume they held her for as long as they could under suspicion of fighting for Voldemort’s side. There was no evidence of her actions in the war if no one testified against her.”

“Where has she been for the whole year then?” Harry asks. “There’s no way that Kingsley would allow her to work for the ministry again after what she did at Hogwarts.”

“I sure hope it wasn’t Kingsley’s decision to allow her back in,” Hermione replies with grim acceptance. “But unfortunately, the intrigue of politics can reach the best of us.”

“Well at least we have an idea of who’s been pulling the strings,” Harry says tiredly and turns to the three Slytherins. “What did you guys find outside?”

Theo braces himself against the table and admits what he found. “We found residual magic from apparition in the forest. We’re thinking that they used a broom as soon as they got too close to the house, because there weren’t many tracks. It’s must be how they got through Justin’s window on the second story floor.”

“How many people were there?” Harry asks him.

“That’s the thing,” Theo admits reluctantly and rubs a tired hand down his face. “It looks like they’ve been watching us from the edge of the forest for days before Justin’s murder. I’ve found traces of magic and older tracks throughout the trees. There were at least three different signatures. Only one of them have been back more than once. There were two attackers in the room with Justin.”

Gasps sound throughout the room and he can’t blame them. It’s one thing knowing that they’ve been in the house while they’re sleeping, but finding out that they’ve been watched and hunted? It’s terrifying. Theo is glad that the wards came up, but he still can’t help the feeling of being prey at the moment. He feels hyper-aware of everything around him. It’s a huge change to the relaxing feeling of hanging out by the fire and enjoying his time cooking. He’s not sure he’ll be able to enjoy anything without second guessing if someone is there watching and waiting to claim their next kill.

Nevertheless, Theo continues giving them an idea of what happened. “I’m not sure the aurors found the same when they were investigating or if they covered it up, but I’m guessing this is something we’ll have to figure out on our own.”

“If that’s what it takes. We need to find out why they assigned us a month in particular. If we’re in a trap set up by Umbridge and the escaped Death Eaters, we need to find out what was supposed to happen in a months time.” Hermione says grimly.

“We need an answer to that fast,” Theo nods in agreement. “We’ve got a week left, and if we’re in a trap for something big, we’ve got a short amount of time to get the hell out of here.”

“This is such bullshite!” Draco shouts suddenly, making the occupants around the table jump. “So much for all that growth and moving on prattle they fed us as an excuse to get us out in the open. I wonder what they’ll do if they find out we have our magic again.”

“That’s if Kingsley made it public knowledge. For all we know, him and McGonagall could be keeping it quiet.” Dean supplies on a positive note.

“Let’s hope your right,” Theo says contemplatively. “If so, we’ve got an advantage over them already.”

Hermione clears her throat after a moment of hesitance. “Anyone else need a drink?”


	15. Chapter 15

After drinking their problems away, everyone splits up and heads to their own rooms to sleep off the heavy feeling of their burden riding on their shoulders. It’s depressing that the feeling of whiskey sliding down his throat did little to take away the pain of knowing that they were heading into another fight. For once in his life, he wants to act like the young adult that he is and say fuck it, let’s leave the problem for the adults.

Despite his spiteful thoughts, Blaise knows that it wouldn’t help if they did that. The adults in their world are practically useless. His point is proven by the fact that they let Umbridge - of all the nasty people - come back into the ministry when she’s caused so much pain already. Did these people forget that Umbridge tortured their children with blood quills? Did they forget how she sentenced Muggle-born’s to death by dementor kiss during the war?

It’s no matter for Blaise. The more he witnesses how the Wizarding World is handling the aftermath of the war, the more he wants to leave. He can honestly say that he’s never had as much fun before as he has with their schoolmates in the Muggle World. Before tragedy struck, the thought of going back seemed like an annoyance. The thought of going back after Justin’s murder makes his chest heave with barely restrained anxiety. He always has the decision to go back to Italy with his grandmother, but the thought of leaving his friends behind to deal with this mess leaves him feeling hollow.

His mother is probably somewhere with white sand beaches trying to seduce another unfortunate bloke into marriage. The war hadn’t affected her much. She knew when to keep her silence and remain in the shadows, and she did it very well. By the time the Death Eater and assumed sympathizer trials were finished, his mother was long gone. She didn’t leave a note or anything. Sometimes he thinks the only thing he got from his mother was his dark skin and access into the family vaults.

He’s not sure what he’d say to the witch if he were to run into her again. It’s probably best that they stay away from each other. They’re no good for one another.

Blaise steps into the room with Draco and Theo behind him. Now that they had their magic, they finally got the chance to split the bed up into three sections so they don't have to share the same bed. Blaise plops down on his bed on the left side of the room and groans. The whiskey runs through his system with ease, and he can’t find it within himself to care. He’s buzzed and it feels weightless. If only his mind could catch up with the rest of his body. He'd give anything to stop the toxic thoughts from running through his head.

Without looking at either of them, Blaise decides to take the direct route and borrow Hermione’s words to Ron earlier. “It’s time to stop ‘pussy footing’ around and talk.”

“What do you mean?” Theo asks curiously as he climbs onto his own bed.

“We all have feelings for the same witch,” Blaise says bluntly. “I don’t want to ruin my friendship with either of you, so it’s time to figure this out before we screw it up irreparably.”

Draco groans and rubs at his face. “Didn’t we talk about this earlier?”

“You talked about her while I wasn’t there?” Theo asks in outrage. “What the fuck?”

“We would have included you if you weren’t so busy with your hand on her arse.” Draco grouches, ignoring how his friends face tinges pink.

Blaise has the urge to laugh uproariously at the situation they’re in. What are the odds that the three of them would fall for the same witch? It’s not like their tastes run the same. While they’ve all had their fare share of fun with different witches - occasionally sharing the same witch - there was never any real emotional connection to any of them.

He’s not sure that any of them have been in a serious relationship, past hookups not included. Sure, Blaise has fooled around with other Muggle-born's, but their relationships never lasted a week before he got bored and moved on. Draco and Pansy dated for a short while during the Triwizard Tournament. Theo scared off his own witch - Tracey Davis - by asking when she could sign a marriage contract. 

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, mate.” Theo replies, regardless of the flush on his face.

Draco scoffs and Blaise rolls his eyes. Their friend really needs to work on his evasive tactics. How he survived around his twat of a father is a mystery to him. Theo’s father got caught fighting in the final battle and got dragged to Azkaban for a life sentence, thank the gods. Theo’s father is a terrifying bloke, not that Blaise would ever admit it out loud. Theo’s mother passed away when he was young - right before he went to Hogwarts - which means his friend is the last hope for the Nott line. Surprisingly enough, Theo is handling it well so far. While they are busy finishing their last year at Hogwarts, his friend has been handling the family investments on the side.

Its seems like a lot of responsibility to handle, but his friend took to it like the merpeople to water.

They’ve all found their own niches in the world, which makes it even more surprising that they’ve became smitten with the same witch. There’s nothing about the witch that would ensnare a wizard right away - such as a veela - but her personality quirks and physical flaws make it impossible to look away. Once you notice her it’s like one of those muggle magnets that keep pulling you back when you try to look away. Blaise isn’t into romance as much as he is seduction, but the witch is irresistible. The way she crinkles her nose cutely and the way she curses when everything seems to get caught in her hair.

Blaise lets a small smile slip onto his face just thinking about it. “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to waste time dodging this.”

“Same here,” Theo grumbles reluctantly, leaning on his elbows from his spot face down on the bed. “There’s no reason for it.”

“Why is that you two seem fine with having the same feelings for her?” Draco asks while waving his arms around. “Shouldn’t you be jealous of each other?”

“I don’t know,” Blaise raises a sarcastic eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell us? I know you have feelings for her as well.”

“Do you feel jealous?” Theo asks while looking at the blonde wizard closely.

Draco looks like he’s thinking about it seriously. Blaise knows that his friend doesn’t want to rush into anything and give the wrong answer. Everything that Blaise has planned rides on the answer to Theo’s question. If there is jealousy, it will never work. “I don’t know. We’ve shared witches before and I’ve never felt jealous, but there were no feelings involved. I’d like to say that I’m not resentful, but I can’t. I’m as possessive as they come.”

“So, you admit that you like Hermione?” Theo asks carefully, not wanting to tread on any shallow ground.

“Yes. That’s not something I’m prepared to deny. I’m not in love with her or anything, but I’d like to get to know her better,” he shrugs before continuing. “I like what I’ve found so far, but that can always change.”

Blaise decides to say screw it and throw his idea out there, because he doesn’t want to wait for his mates to figure out their own shite before he can move forward. He knows he’s attracted to the witch physically and mentally, and that’s all he needs to know. “I propose that we court her.”

Theo splutters. “What?! There is no way that she would agree to court three men at the same time!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Blaise says slowly while shaking his head. “Triads aren’t a new thing to the Wizarding World.”

“There’s three of us, mate. We wouldn’t make a triad.”

Blaise blows air out through his nose, praying for the patience to deal with his friends. “No, we wouldn’t make a triad, but it wouldn’t be a huge difference. They say that triads are powerful together, and they’re accepted in the Magical World. Don’t you think they’d be accepting of three wizards with one witch?”

"That’s nice and all,” Draco drawls sarcastically, though his eyes seem calculating. “I’m more interested in the fact that you think she’ll agree. There’s a slim chance that she possesses the same attraction to all three of us.”

“I never said it was a sure thing, I just suggested it.”

“I don’t mind going for it, but I don’t know that I want to be the one to confront her and ask.” Theo admits shamelessly. There’s a reason he wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor.

“You’ll have to talk to her about it at some point.” Blaise says while he internally cheers. One down, one more to go.

“I know that,” his friend says, equally straight faced. “I just don’t want to broach the subject with her. If she agrees, I’ll formally ask her on my own.”

“Formally?!” Draco exclaims incredulously. “Don’t tell me we’re going to approach this with formal courting rules. She's not the type of witch to enjoy old fashioned dating.”

Blaise feels hope blossom in his chest. Draco just admitted he’s okay with it, indirectly or not. They may think that the witch wouldn’t go for it, but he has a feeling that she’d be all in. Blaise is anything but clueless, and he’s seen the way she looks at all of them. He’s no fool. She’s attracted to them just as much as they’re attracted to her, it’s just the question whether or not she can move past their mistakes to explore something more than casual fun. Blaise knows that she forgives them for their past, but there is a chance that she’ll never forget enough to pursue a relationship with them. He ignores his mates as they argue back and forth and schemes.

He’ll approach Hermione tonight. His heart stutters in his chest anxiously, but he pushes it away in favor of picturing how happy all of them could be if they were in a relationship with her. 

* * *

It was difficult napping with his mind racing in anticipation, but somehow he managed. A few hours later, the group was getting ready to have a fire outside once again. The first time they tried it, they had a great time, but finding out that someone was there watching them ruined it. Now that they have the appropriate protective ward up, Blaise isn’t worried about being observed like an animal in a cage again. Even though the smell of smoke from the fire took forever to get out of his clothes, he couldn’t help but get excited about another night of drinking and relaxing. They were all stressed to the limits, and this could very well be their last night before everything went to hell.

Taking his seat next to Hermione, Blaise took in the sight of her. Holding the tumbler of whiskey in her hand, she passes the bottle over to him in offering. He holds up his bottle of mead and shakes his head in polite refusal, so she hands it over to Harry - who is sitting on the other side of her. The summer night breeze sweeps past her, causing her curls to sway in the wind, and Blaise swears he's never seen something so beautiful. She’s got some sort of floral wrap dress on, which looks similar to a thin bathrobe. It’s exquisite and excruciating at the same time. The string that holds it together looks easy to undo, but Blaise doesn’t want to put any ideas into his own head, especially since he’s been drinking. Her feet are bare, and her hair is free from the messy bun she usually favors.

She looks nothing like the put together witch he is used to seeing at Hogwarts and it’s refreshing. The only word that comes to mind when he thinks about how she looks is free. Free from restrictions. Free from expectations. He knows it won’t last long, but he hopes nevertheless.

“Are you having a good night?” Blaise asks her as he blocks his face from the smoke.

“Absolutely,” she smiles at him secretly, stealing his breath away in the process. “I’m trying to take advantage of it while we can.”

Blaise laughs softly and gazes at her. “I understand.”

“Man of a few words,” she teases as she watches the fire. “By tomorrow, we’ll have to focus all of our energy on solving this shite situation we’re in.”

“It’ll be a relief. Anything is better than sitting around and waiting for the next shoe to drop.”

Hermione hums thoughtfully and agrees. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me where you learned all those Muggle proverbs.”

“I’m not sure what proverbs are, but I’m guessing you’re referring to the Muggle sayings.” Blaise shifts uncomfortably at the thought of telling her exactly how he learned all of them. It’s not like he’s going to come out and say he learned them from all the Muggle-born’s he’s shagged in the past. He’s trying to get her to warm up to the idea of dating him and his two friends, and he doesn’t imagine that his confession would go over well.

“Yes,” she looks at him with eyes that practically twinkle with mischief. “That’s exactly what I mean. You don’t have to tell me though, I think I can guess.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks uncomfortably. The damn witch is good.

“Sally-Anne Perks made sure to inform me of what an excellent student you were,” she grins when he chokes on air. “Or should I say, teacher? I never would have guessed you had a thing for Hufflepuff’s.”

Blaise isn’t sure what he should say to that, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish searching for water. He ignores Draco and Theo snickering on the other side of him. He can just picture what they’re thinking (you’re such a smooth talker, you idiot). Blaise ruffles his hair unconsciously, which shows just how self conscious the witch makes him. “At the risk of sounding like a complete git, the options were limited.”

Hermione laughs lightly, her whole face lighting up. “You don’t have to convince me of that. I can’t help but agree.”

“I never knew your options were limited with the way Weasley and Krum fought over you.” Blaise says teasingly, finally back on even ground.

“Unlikely,” she scoffs and waves her hand dismissively. “Viktor was just a little bit of fun at a very stressful time in my life. We’re still good friends and exchange letters every now and then. Ron and I on the other hand shared one kiss during the final battle, but it’s not something I’ll try again.”

Blaise ignores the stirring of jealousy at her casual dismissal at being friends with an international quidditch player and focuses on her mentioning of Ron. “Why is that?”

“Why won’t I try it again?” she asks and waits for his confirmation. “Honestly, there wasn’t much to explore there. He was such a good friend, and in the heat of the battle, we shared a passionate kiss, but towards the end it fell flat.”

Blaise nods along and wonders why he even brought it up. He doesn’t want to talk about Weasley or Krum. Silence falls on them for a while, where they take advantage of it to observe the others in the group. He feels lucky that everyone decided to join this time. It’s their last night to have fun together.

It takes an elbow to the side from his annoying blonde friend and one more bottle of mead to give him enough courage to ask her to join him on a walk. He’s pleasantly surprised when she accepts his invitation and grabs onto his hand, allowing him to pull her up from her lawn chair. They make their way through the grass and follow the footpath towards the bench in the garden. It’s not until they reach the pebble walkway that he remembers she’s not wearing any shoes. Throwing caution to the wind, he turns around and picks her up from the back of her knees and tosses her over his shoulder.

Cute giggles leave her mouth among her squeals of protest, and Blaise has to force himself not to smile like a besotted fool. “Put me down, you caveman!”

Blaise chuckles lowly and continues walking. “Not a chance, mia cara. We don’t want to hurt those precious toes of yours, now do we?”

“Blaise,” she huffs and wiggles. He’d like nothing more than to land a quick palm on her arse in retaliation, but he holds himself back. Just the thought makes his pants tighten uncomfortably. “I’m going to get light headed if you don’t put me down!”

“Almost there,” he soothes her and risks running a hand down the back of her thigh. “We’re just going to the bench.”

He takes her shiver as a good sign. The dress she’s wearing rides up under her arse cheek, showing off the tantalizing curve of her bum. Blaise bites back a groan. This is escalating too quickly, and when he asks her if she wants to court all of them, he doesn’t want her to decide under a haze of arousal. Biting back a curse, he deposits her on the stone bench gently.

Hermione huffs and smooths out her dress. Sending him a look filled with reproach, the witch wiggles in her seat to get more comfortable, which makes Blaise bite the inside of his cheek in order to stop him imagining her wiggling on a different type of seat. The pain brings his attention back to the topic at hand.

“I’ve got an ulterior motive for bringing you over here.” Blaise admits softly and sits next to her.

“I figured,” she hums and crosses her legs in a ladylike fashion. “What did you need to get me alone for, Blaise?”

Her tongue rolls over his name sweetly. It distracts him for a moment before he starts wondering if he should just come out with it or reel her into the idea gently. It takes all of two seconds to decide. “I’m just going to jump right in and say it. Theo is usually the one who favors the blunt approach, but I think this will only work if I try it his way.”

She looks at him with raised eyebrows. He can see the questioning and wary look in her eyes.

“We’ve been walking circles around each other for weeks now, and I’d like to think you’ve noticed it too. Theo, Draco and I were speaking earlier and came to the conclusion that we want to court you. We feel a great connection with you that we’d like to explore before we lose our chance,” he looks away so he doesn’t see her negative reaction. Blaise Zabini is allowed to be as insecure as anybody. “I know that it may seem unorthodox, but we’ve spoken about it and are willing to give it a try if you are.”

He feels a pair of fingers slide under his chin as she pulls his face to meet hers. Her eyebrows are drawn tight and confusion swirls in her eyes. “Why aren’t they here for this conversation?”

Blaise’s mouth tightens in annoyance. “They didn’t want to overwhelm you with all of us here at the same time. They thought it might make you feel pressured into saying yes. They’d like their own chance to sit down and talk with you if you decide against running and screaming.”

“I’m not going to say no,” he goes to shout in triumph, but she holds her hand out in front of her, which gives him pause. “But why now? I’ll admit that there is chemistry between us, but we hardly know each other, and this is a rather unromantic approach.”

Blaise smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Sometimes I forget the differences between our cultures. When a Pure-blood wizard gains interest in a witch, they approach and let their intentions be known. It’s a part of the courting process. Unfortunately, Theo and I thought this was the best way to go about letting you know of our interest. Draco disagreed, and now I’m wishing I listened to him.”

“I won’t judge. Especially since I’m a huge fan of communication, which you’re obviously not lacking in the least,” she laughs softly and brushes her thumb against his jaw. “Can I just suggest that we try this a little more naturally? I don’t want to pressure ourselves into accepting this and I’m unfamiliar with this ‘courting process’ you speak of. I’ll give the three of you a chance to woo me properly.”

Blaise smiles widely and leans over to kiss her on the forehead. “Really?”

“Yes,” she huffs with amusement. “I know you Pure-blood’s are stuck in your old ways, but you need to treat this like a modern relationship. No courting techniques unless they involve knocking my socks off.”

Blaise throws his head back and laughs in mirth and relief. Her use of Muggle terminology feels a lot like an inside joke that he’s more than happy to share in.

He looks at her closely when his amusement fades. She seems comfortable around him still. There is nothing skittish in her demeanor, which relieves him greatly. He’s a little bit embarrassed about how he approached the subject of courting her, but it’s worth it now that she’s decided to give them a chance.

“You still didn’t answer my question though,” she says to him curiously. “Why now?”

Blaise huffs and tosses his arm around her shoulders. “I speak for myself when I say that the attraction has been there ever since we met each other officially. I was getting tired of pretending it wasn’t there and ignoring it. With the Death Eaters becoming a problem again, I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“I see,” she smiles at him prettily and leans her head against his chest. The smell of her strawberry shampoo travels through his nose, making him relax in bliss. “Blaise?”

“Yes, mia cara?”

“There’s one thing I need to know before we try any further.”

His stomach drops at the sudden turnabout. Didn’t she say that she was comfortable with trying and seeing where it goes already? He knew Gryffindors were unpredictable, but this takes it to a whole other level. Looking down at her peaceful face, he worries that whatever it is will ruin their moment. “What is it?”

“Well, you say that your decision is based off of mutual attraction,” she continues with a sly smile. “But I’d like to test out our physical chemistry. Kiss me?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Blaise’s mouth lifts into a smirk even though his heart starts pounding in anticipation.

He turns himself then lifts her up to face him and brings her legs to rest over his own thighs. She’s not quite sitting on his lap, but it’s close enough. Her eyelashes flutter in surprise as she tips backwards, but his hand resting on her lower back stops her from falling. Using his other hand to brush a curl away from her face, he slides it across her jaw sensually until it rests on the side of her neck. He uses his thumb to rub a comforting line from her cheekbone and down to her jaw when he hears her gasp. Her doubting their physical chemistry makes him want to give it his all, but if he does, they may just end up in the bedroom instead of by the fire with their friends. He figures a teaser will have to be good enough.

Weaving his hand through the hair resting on the bottom of her head, he tugs slightly to tilt her head for the perfect angle and lets his lips fall onto hers. It starts out soft and sweet, lips meeting in the ultimate first kiss. After moments of peppering her lips with teasing kisses, he turns up the heat by parting her lips with his own. Their lips glide together like they’re made for each other, and Blaise can honestly admit that it’s the best kiss he’s ever had in his life.  Not wanting it to end, he slips his tongue into her mouth with ease and she matches him stroke for stroke. There’s no sloppiness that is expected of a french kiss, it’s all comfortable and hot as hell. Heat spreads through his body when he hears her satisfied sighs, mixing with his own growl of approval. Her skin is soft and teasing, making him wonder how she felt beneath her dress.

The kiss is filled with passion that only the most romantic of Italians can boast of. When the kiss becomes too heated, Blaise shifts in his seat, not wanting her to feel the physical proof of his arousal. He starts to pull back from the kiss slowly, leaving sweet kisses against her lips that travel to the corner of her mouth. By the time they separate, their breathing is ragged and their eyes are open in wonder.

Blaise closes his eyes in pain (of the good kind, he admits to himself), and smiles in satisfaction. “How’s that for chemistry?”

“That was practically explosive,” Hermione sighs with a small smile playing on her lips. “Try not to get too smug about it, will you?”


	16. Chapter 16

Theo’s leg fidgets while a rush of nerves run through his body. Blaise is off somewhere with their witch, trying to convince her to give all three of them a chance, and it doesn’t sit well with him. It’s true that Theo and Draco hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her, but to be truthful, Theo is a coward. He doesn’t want to face rejection if he can help it. It may make him a shite friend for allowing Blaise to go face the possibility of getting turned down on his own, but Theo has never been strong in the face of rejection. 

They say that rejection is a part of life that everyone has to face and he agrees, but that doesn’t stop him from running away from it. Maybe his habit of running is his most defining flaw.

Just thinking of it makes Theo even more nervous. How does he stand a chance with such a brilliant witch? What’s to stop her from running off with someone who is more deserving of her passion, strength, and bravery? In his own eyes, he knows he’s not deserving. If he was a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff, perhaps he would be noble enough to let the witch go, but he’s a selfish Slytherin. It’s not in his nature to pass up the opportunity to get to know her and show her every bit of appreciation that she deserves. He feels stuck in the middle. Selfish for wanting to keep her to himself and bitter for knowing he’s undeserving.

It helps when her and his friend make it back to the fire with lips swollen from kissing and half-lidded eyes that betray their desire. Their hands are linked as they walk lazily to the fire. Theo feels hope swell in his chest and his leg quits its annoying movement. He elbows Draco in the side to bring his attention to where his eyes were just resting. Draco’s eyes open wide in surprise before he quickly masks it with a practiced cover. He should tell his friend that it makes him look too blank, but he won’t. It’s amusing to watch him flounder like the rest of them.

Hermione’s hair is tousled and wilder than it was when she left with Blaise, and he can’t decide whether to be jealous or proud of his mate. Any man who succeeds in making a woman look deliciously ravished like that deserves praise. He looks forward to putting that look on the witches face many times over. Just as he finishes that thought, she looks up and makes eye contact with him. Her eyes held warmth and mischief. Those eyes don’t look like someone preparing for a rejection speech. His eyes widen unbidden, and he wants to curse himself for it.

Hermione releases his mate’s hand and kisses him on the cheek before she starts walking towards him. The people around him disappear along with all proper thought. It doesn’t matter if anyone can see him looking at her with eyes flooded with hope and attraction. If he says so himself, he’s done a excellent job at masking his genuine feeling for the witch, but at the moment it isn’t important. He wants her and he couldn’t care less if the whole world knew it.

She sits down next to him and sends him a smirk with a questioning look in her eyes. “Didn’t want to overwhelm me, huh?”

“That’s right,” Theo’s head nods without his consent. “We didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

Hermione brazenly settles her hand on his thigh and squeezes softly. For some reason, Theo always thought of her as a witch to blush and stutter around the opposite sex, but he should have known better. She has spent half her life around males and has a notable lack in female friends (he tells himself he’s not jealous of that fact). He’s pleasantly surprised with her confidence around him, even if it makes him question how much experience with men she has. Not that it would matter, but his image of her is changing and he doesn't want to make any assumptions. “For future reference, I value the more straightforward approach. I’m flattered that you thought of my feelings, but that conversation was meant to be between all of us.”

Theo fidgets in his seat, barely holding in his anxiety. His breathing quickens worryingly. Does that mean that she said no? Did she decide to say yes to Blaise, but not him and Draco?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says after he clears his throat. His chest tightens in pain at the thought of losing before he ever truly began. “Did you come over to tell me no?”

His uncertainty makes her eyes soften and her lips curl into a small smile. He feels her hand tighten on his thigh minutely. “I wouldn’t be touching you like this if I was going to say no. I told Blaise that I didn’t want to take this too seriously. I’d love to try this with you guys, but we’re going to approach this my way. That means no old customs. Just three wizards and a witch in a relationship.”

Her eyes dart over him and Draco as she says this. Draco and Theo both look up in surprise. He knew that his mate was listening to them talk, so there was no point in icing him out when it includes him as well. They’re going to have to get used to open communication if they plan on working together.

“I tried telling them, but they wouldn’t listen.” Draco’s eyes crinkle in amusement, but his eyes remain on the witch who agreed to give them all a try. Theo knew that look of disbelief, especially since he is feeling a lot of it right now. He wants to jump from the chair and spin her around in glee, but it would be unbecoming of him. There is no way that she would want attention drawn to all of them right now.

“I never said I disagreed with you,” Theo defends himself quickly. “I just pointed out that we wouldn’t know how to approach any type of courtship outside of our old customs.”

Hermione cuts them off sternly. Something they should get used to, he supposes. “Well, I happened to tell Blaise that it was ridiculously unromantic. You’re lucky I’m a practical witch, but you both still have a lot of making up to do.”

Theo’s nerves disappear with the challenge and he levels her with a look filled with all the desire he’s been containing. His voice is husky as he addresses her. “I suppose Blaise took full advantage of that?”

“That he certainly did,” she says wryly as she looks back and forth between him and his mate. “I’ll be expecting the same attention from the both of you.”

Theo and Draco murmur in mutual agreement. Who could possibly deny a witch who looks so passionate and bossy at the same time? “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, love.”

Hermione’s eyes flash and her pupils dilate. If it wasn’t for the sound of her breath hitching, he’d be sure that she was angry, but there was no mistaking her sudden desire. Theo’s eyebrows climb and he sets away the information for later use. The timing was too perfect for her to blame it on the whole sentence he spoke. When he called her love, her whole body language lit up with delight. From what he’s experienced, witches usually prefer being called something tacky such as baby or pumpkin. He hides his grin behind his hand. For a woman who claims to hate pet names, she sure as hell reacted strongly. A bolt of desire runs through him as he imagines calling her love in the middle of ravishing her. If her body responded so strongly with her clothes on, he couldn’t wait to see how she lit up when he calls her love while he’s inside of her.

“That’s right,” Draco practically purrs with male appreciation, his eyes soft and calculating. It looks like he’s not the only one who noticed her reaction. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Hermione starts to look harassed, but in a good way. She’s already experienced the full scope of Blaise’s charm - judging by the unkempt hair and dress - so it’s probably overwhelming for her to be on the receiving end of his and his mate’s appraisal. He couldn’t blame her for it. Her cheeks are flushed and her pupils are still dilated. He debates if he should let her off the hook or if he should continue working her up, but they’re interrupted by their friends.

“‘Mione!” Dean shouts drunkenly, swaying as he stands with a huge smile on his face. “It’s time to play some drinking games!”

Theo resists the urge to punch the fucker in the face. Dean had to go a ruin a perfectly good conversation between the three of them. From across the fire, Theo spots Blaise and gives him a nod to show his appreciation for talking to their witch for them. Blaise just smirks and lifts up his bottle of mead in cheers. Theo bets that Blaise is happy he was the one to talk to her, especially when he got to taste her lips on his own. Jealousy is not a feeling that he’s accustomed to, but right now it’s badgering him with a vengeance. Lucky fucker.

* * *

“The name of the game is Truth or Dare, which all of you should be aware of,” Hermione announces. “This time it will be without magic, though!”

Protests start around the fire, but she hold her hand up to stop them.

“Just because we have our magic back, doesn’t mean we’re going to forget about learning things the Muggle way. Honestly, you should be happy! The Muggle way has no way of binding you with magic, so you can always refuse to complete a truth or a dare. The only difference is you’ll chug down a drink every time you refuse to answer or complete a dare. Any questions?”

Longbottom raises his hand sheepishly. “Does that mean we won’t be compelled by our magic?”

“Right-o, Neville!” Hermione chirps and claps her hands. “If you’re uncomfortable with a question or dare, you just concede and chug a drink. Simple as that. Anything else?”

Receiving head shakes in return, Hermione sits down in her seat and pours a drink. The rest of them sit back and argue about who will go first. The witch seems unconcerned over the squabbling, and he supposes that she’s used to it. If this is how Gryffindor parties are, Theo thinks she is used to tuning them out at the right moments. Not that he can blame her for it, either. Some of them are obnoxious.

“I’ll go first!” Ron bellows over everyone else and wades right in without waiting for objections. “‘Mione, truth or dare?”

Hermione’s eyes narrow minutely before she closes her face off. “I’ll go with truth.”

“Boring as always,” he scoffs and crosses his arms. “Who was the first bloke you ever snogged?”

“Viktor Krum.” Hermione doesn’t seem put off with the question, if anything she studies Weasley's face closely with amusement. Weasley’s face turns red in envy and Hermione smirks. Theo ignores the stirring of jealousy and focuses on her hand resting right next to his own. It doesn’t matter that she’s snogged an international quidditch player. It’s all in the past. “Harry, truth or dare?”

“Dare!” Potter yells bravely and pumps his fist in the air.

Hermione appears to evaluate the pool behind them for a moment before she smirks in devious mischief. “I dare you to skinny dip in the pool.”

Harry’s eyes widen when everyone starts to laugh with glee. His cheeks turn a bright shade of pink while he looks at Luna. The wizard may think he’s being covert, but he’s actually quite obvious. Luna smiles dreamily back at Potter and winks at him. If Harry’s cheeks were red before, it’s nothing like how they are now. The wizard looks close to combusting on the spot. “Go on, Harry. If you don’t hurry, the nargles may steal your clothes in retaliation.”

Theo feels Hermione’s shoulders shake in amusement. Everyone can trust the blonde witch to provide entertainment. “Times ticking, Harry James! It’s drink or swim starkers. Your choice!”

Harry stands up hesitantly, ignoring everyone's snickers. Theo’s eyes widen in surprise as he holds his hand out to Luna confidently. “Care to join me?”

The dainty witch shrugs her shoulders and strips out of her rather confusing dress. Theo fights the urge to run over and cover her up to spare her modesty. Harry’s eyes attach to her breasts and stay there for an inordinate amount of time, only turning away when she starts walking to the pool. She keeps her bra and knickers on, saving everyone from getting an eye full. Waving Harry to join her, she jumps into the pool with surprising dexterity. Harry struggles out of his jeans and shirt in his haste to catch up, which makes the lot of them snicker at him. He keeps his boxers on, and the rest of the group sit there and laugh as they struggle to cast drying charms on their bodies. Once Harry and Luna sit back down, only one of their faces are stained pink. “What a lovely pool, Hermione. The cool water really did help Harry.”

Harry splutters incredulously and sends Hermione a panicked look. Hermione gives him an innocent look in return. Everyone understands the innuendo, but they hold in their laughs. The wizards shoulders slump before he eyes Susan Bones and asks her if she chooses truth or dare. The brave witch - for a Hufflepuff - chooses dare, and completes her given task of snogging Neville. Theo hollers with everyone else. Relief is tangible in the air. It’s about damn time they stopped circling around each other!

The night continues with some of the most humorous events Theo has ever seen. Parties have never been this wild in his own house. He knew that Gryffindors are a boisterous bunch, but he would never guess that Hannah and Luna would join in the activities with just as much vigor. The Slytherins figure they can join in the fun, and soon enough things get out of control. Drinks pass around the circle and stories are told. The most memorable part of the night in his opinion is when Hermione came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle after checking to see if anyone was paying attention. The feeling of her arms around him created a warmth that he hardly thought possible. Theo is not known to be romantic but having her chin rest on his shoulder while swaying side to side, he honestly wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Even Draco took as much warm affections he could get, not caring if the world could see.

The game of Truth or Dare causes many mishaps, such as Dean almost falling into the fire when he was dared to jump over it, and Ron answering Hermione’s name when his own sister asked who he thought his soulmate was. Draco revealed that he lost his virginity to Pansy (which wasn’t a shock for anyone, but Pansy preened in boastfulness nevertheless), and Blaise refused to answer who he lost his own virginity to and had to chug a full bottle of mead (Theo swore on their friendship he’d never tell, and it wasn’t a promise he planned to break, no matter how much he wanted to). Theo reveled in his luck that he wasn’t picked by anyone, but soon got called out by a swaying Neville. It could have been worse when he picked truth instead of dare. Neville is known to be soft, so it wasn’t a surprise that he kept his question tame. Neville asked what the craziest thing Theo has ever done, which took a surprising amount of time to answer.

Theo almost wanted to answer that the craziest thing he ever did was agreeing to enter a relationship with two other wizards who wanted to share the same witch, but he held back. He bit his tongue and answered his customary response for when the Slytherins played the same game in the common room.  _ The craziest thing I’ve ever done was gone skinny dipping and ended up being dragged back to the shore by the Giant Squid,  _ he answered solemnly.  _ Tentacles _ near his  _ testicles  _ was not the most pleasant feeling. His answer causes the others to fall into hysterics, howling with laughter. This leaves Theo where he is now, contemplating on digging a hole to die in, or if he should just shrug it off.

“Your turn to pick, Theo!” Dean cheers and raises his glass.

Theo casts his eyes around the group and argues with himself on who to choose. Everyone has had their turn to admit something humiliating or to complete a dare. After thinking about it, he notices that his witch hasn’t been called on since they first started the game. As he looks over at her, realization hits her and she narrows her eyes at him with warning, but all he does is smirk in return. “How about you, love? Truth or Dare?”

Ignoring the use of his term of endearment - or too drunk to care - the group waits patiently for her answer. The beautiful witch lifts her chin and replies with the grace she’s known for. “Dare.”

“I dare you to transfigure that bottle next to you into a guitar and play us a song,” Theo says with steadiness, but he eyes her warily. He’s been wanting to hear her play, but he hasn’t gotten the chance to ask her yet.

Hermione nods her head contemplatively and pushes up her dress slowly to reveal her thigh holster. His mouth fairly waters at the sight, and he has to hold be a groan of disappointment when she grabs her shrinked beaded bag that’s stuck next to her wand. “I’ll just use my own guitar. Transfigured instruments tend to go awry,” she says to him with a raised eyebrow. “Does anyone have any requests?”

“Show them the power of The Lost Boy by Greg Holden, dear sister!” Dean supports her loudly. “I’ll never forgive you if you don’t sing. You know it’s my favorite.”

She curls her lips into a sneer at the flailing wizard. “I don’t sing, Dean.”

“Yes, you do. I haven’t got to hear you sing this song in years.”

“You won’t leave it alone, will you?” Hermione pouts adorably as her shoulders slump.

Hermione sighs irritably as she pulls the guitar out of her beaded bag. Theo is no judge on instruments, but the scratches and worn look from the guitar point out that it’s well used. The polish on the guitar does little to hide how loved it is. If he guesses correctly, the guitar may be her most prized possession. The way her eyes trail her fingers as she runs a hand down the guitar gives it away. Longing is ingrained deeply in her movements and expressions, and his breath catches in his throat. He would give anything to have her look and touch him like that.

She gets into position and tweaks with the strings a bit before adjusting them accordingly. “Here goes. Feel free to throw your drinks at me if you get tired of my voice. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t an experienced vocalist, and Dean is biased.”

Harry looks at her encouragingly, and Theo rubs his hand against her back discreetly in support. It wouldn’t be good to get caught with everyone's attention on her at the moment. Draco and Blaise send him a look saying that he’s not as discreet as he thinks, but all he does is shrug and smiles sheepishly. It’s not his fault he can hardly keep his hands off her.

While touching her at the moment sounds great, he’s more focused on the fact that he’s about to hear her play her guitar and sing a song he’s never heard before. It’s no secret that wizards don’t have the largest selection of music. Sure, the old families are known to listen to old classical music, so outside of the performance at the Yule Ball, he hasn’t heard the guitar being played much. He’s also intrigued to see how good she is at playing. It’s not that he doubts her skill, but he’s never pictured Hermione to perform anything artistic, especially since she’s always fallen back on her beloved books.

When her fingers start to strum on the strings, it starts out a bit choppy, and he assumes it’s because she hasn’t played in a long time. It doesn’t take long for her notes to smooth out, and Theo marvels at the way her fingers strums to chords with such experience. When he looked at her hands before, he always thought of potioneer's hands (long and slender), but now he can see how her fingers fit for the use of the instruments. He can already imagine how her hands would fly over the keys on a piano.

His lips part in awe as she starts to sing for the first time. His eyes are trained on her form, and there is nothing that could cause him to look away. Her voice croons softly along the words and Theo couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful. Chills spread across his body, giving him the sensation of goosebumps rising on his skin. The hairs on his arms stick up with the overwhelming feeling she pours into her every word.

Even though she’s singing from a male's perspective, the lyrics fit hauntingly with the life she’s lead prior to this day. The words being sung speak of pain, loss, and suffering. They speak of the feeling of belonging among comrades, and the need to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. She sings the song with the same amount of defiance that the words explain at the ending of the song. The song fits everyone who fought for the light in the war, and he can feel it in his bones even if he didn’t fight on the right side.

As her singing comes to a close, she continues to strum at her guitar until the notes close completely. There is a moment of silence after she puts down her guitar and he can see her shifting in her seat uncomfortably. He about jumps out of his skin when the cheering starts. Dean and Harry being the loudest. Theo knows his eyes are filled with astonishment, as well as everyone else but he’s the first to string words together.

“That was incredible,” he breathes in awe, studying her face closely. “For a person who says she can’t sing, you sound fucking amazing.”

Hermione chuckles awkwardly and rubs a hand on the back of her neck. “I’m not much for singing, honestly. I may sound good, but you should’ve heard my father,” she says while patting her guitar. “This was his guitar actually. I learned from him.”

“Was the song his?” Draco clears his throat and shuffles in his seat, almost seeming as if he regrets the question the moment he spoke it. It doesn’t take a genius to notice her parents are a sore topic for her.

“No,” she shakes her head and bites her bottom lip. “The writer of this song is named Greg Holden. He’s not mainstream or anything - heaven knows why -  but I’ve always enjoyed his music.”

“It’s a good song,” Draco admits freely and his lips quirk the slightest bit in a smile. “Especially with your voice.”

Theo narrows his eyes at the blonde, knowing that he is charming the curly haired witch. Just because they agreed to try out this shared relationship thing, it doesn’t mean he has to be completely happy with it. Competition can be healthy in small doses after all, and he’s more than ready for it.

The rest of the night is spent with idle chit chat. They all know that this may be the last time they get to enjoy themselves, so everyone makes sure to be on their best behavior. Even the Weasley siblings know better to start anything when they have much harder battles to face in the upcoming few days. Hermione sits back in her chair and Theo admits to himself that this is how he’d like to see her for the rest of their lives. Eyes warm and body relaxed. They sit silently and let the conversations pour over them.

If Theo feels a hand slip into his, he doesn’t say anything. He only squeezes the hand comfortingly and soaks up the feeling of belonging for as long as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I used in this chapter is called The Lost Boy by Greg Holden. I don't know if any of you hav eheard it before, but it was used as Opie's wake song on Sons of Anarchy. The release of this song doesn't match up to the timeline of the Harry Potter movies or books, but I had to use it. The lyrics fit frighteningly well for our characters experience with war and suffering.
> 
> As for our Slytherin trio, I'm trying to make it seem like a natural progression, but I have a feeling I made it too unrealistic. This chapter hopefully makes up for that. I've never written romance before, but I'm trying my hardest.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione nurses her hangover induced headache with a cup of coffee. It’s not as useful as the potions she was receiving at Hogwarts or a good hangover cure, but it’s better than nothing. The beginning of light shines through the kitchen window, and she decides that she should go out on the patio to enjoy the sunrise before everyone woke up. It will give her a good start to the day, not to mention time to wrap her mind around what happened the night before. It should be inconceivable - she almost turned them down - but she’s tired of putting her happiness aside for the sake of someone else. A relationship with three separate men isn’t conventional and it could burn a lot of bridges with her friends if they don’t agree with her choices.

She shuts the patio door quietly so she doesn’t wake anyone, and pads her way to the open chair. As she sits down, she leans back and breathes in the open morning air. Her baggy joggers make it easy to fold her legs under her, and she can feel the slight chill clinging to the uncovered skin on her arms. The steam from her coffee cup rises lazily and swirls in the air, and she finds herself feeling jealous of the easy movement. Her bones aching is one of the signs that she drank too much the night before. It may have been fun at the time, but she’s regretting it in the moment.

She idly runs her finger over the rim of her coffee cup and it reminds her of the way Blaise’s thumb ran on the back of her neck while they were kissing. Chills rise up on her arms as she recalls their kiss, and it has nothing to do with the cold air. It was perfect. The feeling of his lips on hers made every stressful thought rush away. He left her panting and wanting for more, that’s for sure. Back when she took a trip to Italy with her parents, she observed how passionate the men and women were, but nothing prepared her for the mind blowing kiss they shared. Blaise definitely proved that as an Italian man, he doesn’t lack the same passion. Even the feeling of Theo rubbing circles on her back teased her something fierce. She didn’t interact with Draco much the night before, but she wishes she had.

While she’s eager to explore where their relationship will go, she still feels apprehensive. Ever since she was a little girl, Hermione has always had problems with insecurity, and she swore to herself that she wouldn’t allow anything to bring her down again. It’s becoming harder to keep that promise ever since she learned of their interest in her. Sure, she’s seen the heated looks they sent her way, but she’s always brushed them off as them being attracted to her and nothing more. Her mind keeps telling her that they might be using her to satiate their curiosity, or that they’ll up and leave as soon as they return back to their world. Her heart is in disagreement, though. While she’s spent time with the three of them, she has learned that they’re genuinely good people and are unlikely to do something like that to her.

Her mind and heart are at war with each other, and the last time that happened, she got her heart broke. She doesn’t want to compare them to her past experiences with men, but it’s easier said than done. Men are not her specialty, and it’s not like she’s ever researched anything to do with relationships. Hermione knows that books would not help in this situation.

Hermione’s first heartbreak was when her muggle boyfriend - Jax - broke up with her when she said she couldn’t write to him when she went back to school (she’s sure it was nothing but a childhood infatuation, but she didn’t know that at the time). Her second heartbreak was due to Viktor Krum. He made her feel like the belle of the ball and left her with hasty goodbye. It was a fast paced romance, and once he claimed her first in everything, he left just as fast. She wouldn’t consider what happened with Ron as a heartbreak, but after his treatment of her, she decided to put men on the back burner. She enjoyed her dalliances after the war, but Harry put a stop to it very quickly.

When Hermione started to enjoy the feeling of being free after drinking and running off with a bloke after the war, Harry sat her down and pleaded with her to stop burying her problems with all of her unhealthy coping mechanisms. She knew that if Harry noticed something was wrong, then it had to stop. She quit taking dreamless sleep potions, she quit drinking every day to process her grief, and she went to Hogwarts with Harry so he could keep an eye on her. While she wouldn’t admit it out loud, he’s been a huge help to her. Instead of destroying herself, she’s learned to move on and keep herself happy (as happy as a child soldier could be, anyway).

Thinking about what they had to do to survive makes her angry at the world. Now that they’re having to do it again, it makes her wonder if they’ll ever live a normal life. Being back in her Muggle roots has been breath of fresh air, and now someone is trying to take it away. As soon as she seen what happened to Justin, she knew without a doubt that they would be the ones solving the issue - as always. The adults in their world don’t know how to handle the responsibility, so once again, the problem lays on their shoulders. It makes her wonder if any of them will survive this time.

Hermione is good at surviving. It’s probably her only skill that's honed with years of experience. Throw life threatening trials at her and she’ll find a way to overcome it. As good as she is, she just doesn’t know if she’ll survive this time. She’s so damn tired. Tired of surviving and not living. Tired of fighting. When will their fight be over? How much of themselves do they have to give in order to live a happy life?

She absently runs her finger over the crude scar on her arm, thinking about the parts of herself that she’s already had to sacrifice. It makes her feel sick thinking that people like Bellatrix are still out there after all they’ve fought for.

Hermione should have known it was all for naught, she thinks as she gazes down at the letters that spell out the vile word on her arm. She traces the curved letters and it hits her with the weight of an oncoming train. Hermione’s spine snaps straight and her coffee cup crashes on the ground with a loud shatter. She doesn’t pay any mind to the spilled coffee as she grabs onto the arms of the chair like a lifeline. Her hands shake with uncontrollable spasms, and her face drains of color. How the hell had she not noticed before? It’s been right in front of her eyes the entire time, and she wars with herself whether to be filled with dread or to be annoyed with herself for overlooking such a glaring detail.

Without thinking, Hermione is running through the patio door and into the house. Once she reaches Harry’s door, she opens it and walks in uninvited. She has half a mind to not make any comment on the blonde who’s wrapped around him like a second skin. “Harry!” she shouts and shakes his sleeping form. “Get up! I’ve figured it out!”

The wizards eyes open with a start and he tries to sit up, only to be held down by Luna. Harry squeaks cutely and rushes to cover up with his blanket when he notices what Hermione has witnessed. 

“Oh, get over it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen your bare arse, Harry. We’ve got more important things to worry about. Get up and meet me in the kitchen. You’ve got five minutes,” Hermione says.

“Okay,” Harry blinks sleepily and shakes Luna awake. Hermione doesn’t wait around for her to wake up.

Hermione ignores the fear that crawls up her spine and allows her hangover addled brain distract herself from what her revelations will mean. Instead of going straight to the kitchen, she decides to stop in front of the door next to her bedroom. Lifting her hand up, she knocks on their door with two solid thunks. If it were up to her, she’d decide to let them sleep off their hangovers, but there are more important things that need to be done.

The door pops open, revealing Draco looking disheveled and exhausted. He looks at her for a moment and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the palms of his hands. Hermione tries to ignore how adorable he looks at the moment, especially when he smiles crookedly at her and wraps his arms around her. Bringing her in close, he lands a kiss on the top of her curly head. “Good morning to you, too. How’re you feeling?”

Hermione cringes at her lack of manners, but brushes her thumb across his stubbly chin in silent greeting. “About the same as you, I’m guessing.”

Draco steps back and opens the door for her to walk through. Stepping into the room, she sees Theo and Blaise cuddled on their beds with their blankets pulled up over their heads. Smirking in wary amusement, she walks up and pulls the blankets down and opens the blinds to the window. As soon as the sunlight reaches them, they hiss in displeasure and close their eyes tight. Even Draco closes a hand over his own. Hermione laughs gently. “Time to get up, boys.”

Ignoring their protests, Hermione gives each of them a kiss on the cheek. She hates the thought of ruining their morning, but there isn’t much she can do about it. Usually, Hermione would just keep things between her and Harry, but she’ll need their help.

“What’s the grim face for?” Theo questions sleepily.

Hermione sets her jaw and breathes deeply before looking at each of them in turn. “I’ve found something. I came to wake you guys up and let you know that you can meet Harry and I in the kitchen if you’d like. I’m not going to wake anyone else, but it’s important.”

Draco walks over to her and rubs his hands down her arms in comfort. The muscles in his jaw work furiously while he eyes her with worry. “We’ll be there. Just let us get dressed first.”

“You can stay and watch if you want, mia cara,” Blaise says jokingly, but you can see his worry as well.

“As much as I’d love to see you three naked,” she jokes back, but it falls flat with her current mood. “I’m on a time restraint.”

They eye her with understanding and shoo her out of the room, so she makes her way back to the kitchen. While she’s waiting on them, she may as well make another pot of coffee. It’s too bad they don’t have Kahlua to go with it. Hermione has a feeling they’ll need something much stronger than coffee.

* * *

Harry cringes with embarrassment as Hermione eyes him with amusement. Out of all the things he could have woken up to, it had to be his best friend and honorary sister barging into his room. To be fair, they’re used to giving each other very little privacy, so he could have warned her. From the knowing look she’s been giving him the past week, she’s had it all figured out for a while now. Now that he thinks about it, she was probably wondering why he hasn’t been crawling into her bed to keep the nightmares away any longer.

“Really, Harry?” she says as she blows air over the top of her coffee cup to cool it down. “Couldn’t have locked your door?”

Harry gulps and brings his own coffee close to him as if it can shield him. “I don’t think a locked door would keep you out, ‘Mione.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” she raises a mocking eyebrow at him. “Who do you take me for?”

“That’s the problem. I know you too well to expect anything less,” Harry says with a defeated sigh. “How about we talk about what you dragged me out of bed for, instead?”

His best friends face immediately hardens, and he knows whatever is on her mind is serious. If there is one thing in this world that he’s absolutely sure of, it’s that Hermione will handle it. It may be unhealthy the way he leans on her, but he couldn’t imagine anyone else sticking by his side. At one time, he thought Ron would stick by his side, but he should’ve known better. How many times has he left them when they needed him most?

At the same time he questions her, the three Slytherins that he used to loath walk into the kitchen, each pausing to either drop a kiss on Hermione’s head or to brush a hand across her shoulders. Now this is interesting, Harry notices. Harry has witnessed the sexual tension between all of them, but he honestly never thought it would go anywhere. This is the first time he’s seen them touch each other outside of casual shoulder brushes. He finds himself curious on what’s going on between all of them. He’d ask, but the way Hermione leans into their touches tells him that he should keep his nose out of it for now.

Maybe he’ll get together with Dean and plan a sneak attack on the witch. Usually, he’d go for the wizards first, but to be honest, they’re very intimidating. It doesn’t matter that he’s called the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry knows that without his wand, he’d be a bug beneath their shoes if it ever came down to a fight. Harry subconsciously looks down at his arms and flexes while they’re busy getting coffee. Harry sighs forlornly. Maybe he should start working out. He’s sure Luna would appreciate it.

“Now that we’re all here,” Hermione starts hesitantly and crosses her arms in a move that Harry knows she does when nervous. “There is something I found out earlier, and believe it or not, it should be even less possible than Dolohov’s curse being used on Justin. I’ll just jump in and say that you may not believe me, but I want you to hear me out.”

The three handsome wizards nod and look at her with eyes that show nothing but support (yes, he can admit they are handsome, even if it rubs him the wrong way), and Harry urges her with his own raised brows. He’s learned to never question the witch, especially since the last time he did, people got killed.

“Let’s hear it, then.” There’s not much he can do to give her support, but at the same time, he can give her the respect of not showing his skepticism.

“You all got a good look at the message on the wall, right?” she asks as she pulls out a picture from her beaded bag and throws it on the table. Harry resists the urge to get sick all over the table. He should have known that she’d be thorough and take pictures to preserve any chance they had at making discoveries. “I mentioned the day of Justin’s murder that I recognized the writing, but I didn’t know where from. It’s been on the front of my mind, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. It turns out that it’s been right in front of my face the whole time.”

“What do you mean?” Draco questions her gently. “I don’t mean to sound like a git, but just how many death eaters have you been around to be able to recognize handwriting?”

“That’s my point. I’ve been around a lot of death eaters, but I shouldn’t have been able to recognize it. The only one I’d recognize the writing from is supposed to be dead. Just like Dolohov,” she says gravely and clutches her fingers on the edge of the table.

Harry’s stomach drops with the implication she’s making. “No,” he murmurs while shaking his head. “That’s not possible.”

Hermione sends him a look telling him to shut up and use his head. While the other three men shift impatiently in their seat, she flips her arm over and holds it out for inspection. The three cringe back slightly, but not out of disgust, it’s more out of surprise. Draco pales more than normal and has trouble looking at it without self-loathing filling his eyes. Blaise and Theo seem to gather themselves and they look closely at her arm. Understanding lights up their eyes, and Theo grabs the picture to hold it up next to her arm. As his eyes settle on the loopy O’s and D’s, his face pales abruptly. “Harry’s right. It should be impossible. I seen her die with my own eyes.”

“I warned you,” Hermione speaks to all of them, especially Draco who looks on the verge of throwing up. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is Bellatrix’s handwriting. It shouldn’t be possible, and there’s always a chance that someone has learned how to forge it, but I’m not so sure. There’s too much evidence pointing towards Bellatrix and Dolohov.”

Harry rolls his shoulders back and thinks back to what she said about Dolohov’s curse being used on Justin’s body. It’s unlikely that the wizard shared his own creation, knowing it was his signature move. As for Bellatrix, why would someone try to copy her handwriting? It just didn’t make sense.

“So, we’re worried about two different psycho’s coming back from the dead.”

“Like I said, I’m not sure if Dolohov died during the battle or not. I landed a killing blow on him, but I ran before he bled out.” Hermione looks pale and shaky as she mentions this, and Harry has a sinking suspicion that there’s more to the story. He hardly ever witnesses her looking so spooked, and usually its after nightmares. He’ll remember to ask her about it later, knowing she wouldn’t want to be put on the spot in front of others.

“What about the ministry? I know they sent out a list of all apprehended death eaters in The Daily Prophet. Did they name any of the bodies found during the clean up?” Blaise asks with a furrow in his brow.

“Yes, but when Voldemort lost, most of his followers grabbed any bodies they could and fled,” he says with confusion. He didn’t know why that seemed so normal at the time. Now he’s starting to question himself.

“That’s not normal,” Draco shakes his head decisively and taps a finger on the table. “All of those fuckers were too worried about surviving. They wouldn’t waste their chance to get away by bringing the dead with them.”

“That’s crude,” Harry can’t help but scoff in the face of such bluntness. “Those are people who died, for Merlin’s sake.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Now’s not the time for your Gryffindor sensitivity. It’s the truth and you know it. The death eaters didn’t give a shite about anyone but themselves.”

“Draco,” Hermione interrupts before they can argue. “I know you don’t like talking about your time as a part of his inner circle, but tell me, did Voldemort give orders to bring back the dead to the Malfoy Manor?”

“No,” Draco answers curtly. “Not when I was there. I was never around him that much, anyways. Just when he hosted revels in the Malfoy dining room, or when he was giving me orders.”

“Okay,” she replies while looking pensive. If she notices the way both Blaise and Theo tense at the mention of the revels, she doesn’t show it. “It looks like we have another mystery on our hands. For now, let’s assume the dead are coming back to life. Unless horcruxes are involved, I’m not sure how it’s possible. I doubt Tom Riddle would share his trade secret on immortality with his followers.”

Harry’s face turns grim. “Not unless he was afraid of losing them. It would take someone very important for him to share that opportunity.”

“We all know that he didn’t have the emotional capacity to care for anyone, so let’s assume it’s those who held the most value to him,” Theo offers gravely.

“Such as his right hand sycophant, and the man who creates the spells that his death eaters used in battle?” Draco questions rhetorically.

“Fuck,” Hermione says decisively. “This is a lot of hypothetical scenarios. I don’t like relying on a guessing game.”

“Neither do I,” Harry says tiredly and runs a hand through his hair. “But it’s all we’ve got for now, unfortunately.”

“I have a plan, but you guys aren’t going to like it,” Hermione says and holds her hands out in supplication.

“Isn’t that my line?” Harry grouses.

Hermione smirks. Harry just heaves a sigh while the other three wizards watch on with wariness. There’s no doubt that they’re being cautious about following a half baked plan made by Gryffindors, no matter how smart one of them may be.


	18. Chapter 18

Draco runs his hands through his hair and contemplates the ingenuity of Hermione’s plan. It’s pure stupidity and has a high chance of getting them killed, but from what Potter said, this is how most of their plans go. It makes him question how they all survived the war with The Golden Trio pulling all the strings. Hermione may be a brilliant witch, but she’s still reckless to a fault. She wouldn’t have been sorted into Gryffindor if she wasn’t.

The rest of the group had woken up while they were just leaving the kitchen in order to get ready. Harry told them that he’d run interference while the four of them got their stuff together. It may not be fair that they decided to keep their findings to themselves, but it was important to do so. If they knew that there was a chance that Bellatrix could still be alive, it would send them into a panic. Not to mention Longbottom, whose parents were tortured to insanity by the witch. He would be more than upset to know that she was alive after everything. 

He pats down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything he needs, especially his wand. While his two mates finish getting their stuff together, he decides to go and see if his witch is ready.

After everything he’s heard this morning, he's upset that he didn’t get to spend much time with her the night before. Being the good friend that he is, he decided to sit back and let Theo enjoy some of his time with her, even if he wanted to be selfish and steal her away. It makes him worry how this is going to work out, but he tells his brain to shut up. They all agreed to take it slowly, and Draco isn’t sure how Muggles court each other, but he’s sure that she’s not expecting them to ask for her hand anytime soon. It’s one of the many perks he enjoys about the Muggle World. For example, if he were to court Pansy, he’d be expected to draw up some contract for marriage already. His lip curls into a sneer at the thought.

It’s probably a good thing his bastard of a father is dead, otherwise he’d be drawing contracts for marriage already. He’s lucky that his parents decided to wait for a contract until after the war. Most of the Pure-blood scions weren’t as lucky. Marcus Flint has been betrothed to Millicent Bulstrode since before they started Hogwarts. Just the idea of it makes him shudder.

Walking into her room, he notices that Hermione is missing and he starts to get a little worried until he hears the water running from her master bathroom. His shoulders tense even further when he identifies the sound of the shower. He sits down on her bed and pinches the inside of his thigh to distract himself with the pain.

It wouldn’t do him any good to think about her being naked, water dripping down her body in rivets, hair smoothed back from her face, water droplets sticking to her eyelashes, hands working between her thighs…

Draco bites the inside of his cheek and grunts. He hardens at the picture running through his head, and he wants nothing more than to strip down and join her in the shower, but he stops himself. They decided to take it slow, and he wouldn’t push for more until he's sure she's ready. Slowly adjusting himself, Draco tries to ignore the sound of running water and starts to look at the pictures lining the walls.

It took him a while to get used to the Muggle pictures. It’s unnatural to him. The pictures shouldn’t stay stationary. He’s used to seeing pictures play on loop, not frozen forever in one moment. The first picture he sees is a young Hermione - possibly ten years old - sitting at a piano with her back straight and chin tipped up in defiance. Her hair is as wild as ever, but it shows the frizzy quality that has been lost as she’s grown into adulthood. His mouth tips up into a fond smile when he notices the same spark in her eyes that she’s always had. It’s good to know that Hogwarts hadn’t changed her as a person.

The second photo is of a older couple standing side by side in the snow. Hermione stands in front of them with a book clutched to her chest, and it looks like she's stubbornly trying not to smile at the camera. Draco feels a pang in his chest when he realizes that the older couple are her parents. As far as he can tell, they look like the perfect family. Her father’s arms are wrapped around both girls, and the smile on her mother’s face is honest and forever frozen in time. It’s easy to see where Hermione got her hair from, Draco notices as he eyes her mother's wild curls. Other than that, it looks like his little witch got most of her looks from her father.

Draco hears a throat clear behind him and it makes him jump. He spins around and relaxes when he notices that it’s Hermione. He must have been distracted to the point of stupidity if she was able to sneak up on him like that. Without his permission, his eyes travel slowly down her body and resists the urge to groan. Did Muggles invent skinny jeans just to torture men?

When his eyes make their way back to her face, she has an amused glint in her eyes. Her hair is still wet and dripping, and although it’s cute, he immediately misses her wild curls. “You’re already set to go?”

“Yes,” Draco replies as he walks over to her and stands directly in front of her. “I’m just waiting on you.”

“I’m not accustomed to being the last one ready,” she says with a perplexed look on her face. “Forgive me for taking too long, will you?”

With hurried movements, she runs her fingers through her hair and tries to get it into a braid. Draco puts his hands over hers to halt her hands. He gently pushes her hands down and drags her to sit on the bed. When she gives him a questioning look, he responds with a bashful shrug of his shoulders. “I couldn’t watch you butcher your hair any longer.”

“You know how to braid?” she asks with a raised brow. “Where did you learn that?”

“Let’s just say that Pansy was a little harpy who deprived us wizards from running off on our own unless we played dress up with her,” Draco says with an embarrassed smile. He ignores the blush that tinges his cheeks and coaxes her to relax. His fingers weave through her hair clumsily until he remembers the patterns correctly.

Hermione hums contemplatively as she leans against him. “Sometimes I forget that you all grew up together.”

Not missing the wistful tone as she speaks, Draco’s heart hurts for her. The more time he spends in the Muggle World, the more he understands how hard it must have been to leave that all behind to start a new life in the Wizarding World. He couldn’t imagine leaving everything he knew that early in life to start somewhere new. Just the thought of it makes him uncomfortable.

“Do you have any friends that you still talk to in the Muggle World?” he asks after a moment.

Hermione tenses minutely before relaxing once again, and he guesses that he’s stepped into dangerous territory. He still hopes that she’ll open up to him, though. “No, I don’t. Muggle kids thought I was too strange and bookish to make friends with me. I had Dean as a friend, but even he was distant considering we had nothing in common as children.”

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I can’t imagine what it was like for Muggle-born’s.”

Hermione smiles wryly as she fidgets with the end of her braid. He’s relieved that she hasn’t moved away from him even though he’s finished with her hair. “It wasn’t easy. We could make the impossible happen, and not everyone had such supporting parents like Dean and I. It was hard for our parents, though.”

“I bet,” Draco tells her. He thinks about what he would do in that situation and he can honestly say that he doesn’t know. Magic is thought to be impossible by Muggles, and he’s sure that her parents were baffled and scared about what could be going on with their child. He couldn’t blame them for that. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your parents?”

Draco didn’t think before blurting his question out, and he wishes more than anything that he could take it back after he feels her body tense. She told everyone that her parents were murdered, but she didn’t say much more than that. Hermione leans back and looks at him considerately. Her hands shake even as she clenches them tightly. Her eyes fill with pain and he wants to curse himself for putting that look in her eyes.

Hermione clears her throat before speaking, but her voice is still hoarse with emotion. “I was spending part of the summer with the Weasley's after sixth year and Dean was with Seamus. The two of us decided to meet up with each other before we traveled here to spend the rest of our vacation with our parents. We both decided that we needed to get our parent to safety before the war started, so it was going to be the last time we would see them until after the war. We agreed that I would obliviate them and send them to Australia.”

Draco makes a noise in the back of his throat. It’s part understanding and part pained. He wishes that she didn’t have to make a hard choice like that, but it seems like choice was taken away from her. He holds his hand out for her to take, and once she does, he squeezes it in comfort.

“When we arrived here, we didn’t expect it to be so quiet. Our families were known to be wild when they got together, so we assumed that they may have been in town or something. I won’t go into detail, but we weren’t expecting to walk into a bloodbath,” she says with anguish and he has to hold himself back from pulling her into his arms. The pain and sadness leaves her eyes, only to be replaced with rage that is so familiar to him. “They slaughtered our parents, Draco. We don’t know how they were found or who the killer was. We didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Nothing. We were too late and I will hate myself for it for the rest of my life.”

Draco gives in to temptation and pulls her into his arms. He shushes her gently and assures her that it’s not her fault. Never her fault. He tells her how sorry he is that she had to go through that and that she doesn’t have to speak about it anymore. He apologizes to her for bringing it up and tells her that he’s there for her, even when he knows it will never be enough.

Hermione sniffles quietly and he wonders how she can stand being in this house now that he knows how her parents were killed here. He never noticed her or Dean being uncomfortable in the house, though, and it makes him question how well they are at hiding their emotions.

Once she’s calmed down, she looks at him in question and asks the one thing he has always dreaded, but he owes it to her to tell her. “What about your mum and dad? I don’t mean to bring it up, but if it’s sharing time, I’d like to know.”

Draco smirks weakly and smooths her stray hairs back from her face. “My father was given the dementors kiss, as you well know. My mother spends her days wasting away in the Malfoy Manor. Our relationship isn’t the closest after the war. She expected things to go back to normal in the high society, but she didn’t take into account that things were going to change after the war, no matter how much she wished it not to.”

“It must be hard on her,” she says softly, voice laced with understanding. “It’s difficult to say goodbye to everything you’ve known. I’m not saying that things should stay the same or anything, but I can only imagine what it’s like when all your friends and acquaintances are being carted off to prison. Especially her husband.”

He tries hard not to show his awe of her, but he can’t help it. Not that he would blame her for it, but he was expecting her to show some anger or disgust at his mother's actions. Instead, she tells him that she understands. When he went back to Hogwarts, his mother and father were very sore spots for him to talk about, but she doesn’t judge his family at face value. It’s not that he misses his father - he actually resents the man something fierce - but he does miss his mother terribly. Hermione has no reason to be kind with her words, considering the damage his family has done to her, but she still shows compassion. Draco shakes his head fondly.

“You’re something else, aren’t you?” he questions rhetorically.

Her face softens and she rubs her thumb against his knuckles. “Not really. I think it’s me that should be asking that.”

Feeling overwhelmed with his appreciation for her, he checks the empty doorway to make sure no one is looking in before he looks at her closely. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

It’s as much a question as it is a statement, and he holds his breath waiting for her to deny him. He searches her face for any signs that he shouldn’t reach out to her, and the tension seeps into his bones. Hermione’s pupils dilate as they land on his lips, and he knows in that moment that he has his answer. He licks his lips nervously before leaning in slowly. He wasn’t expecting her to meet him halfway but she does.

As soon as their lips fuse together, he feels the sparks rushing across his skin, and he can’t help but think that he wasn’t expecting it to be like this. From prior experience, kissing has always seemed like a obligation rather than a want. It starts out tentatively - as many first kisses do - but it soon melts into pure desire. He feels the heat creeping up his neck and onto his face, and he can’t find it within himself to care. Their lips move together in sync, as if they’ve been accustomed to kissing each other for years, and he can’t help but wonder how their chemistry would extend to more pleasurable activities.

He debates whether to take the kiss further, but he knows that they don’t have the time, which seems to be the story of their life these days. So instead of reaching out and pulling her body close up to his, he reaches a hand out and settles it on the side of her neck. His fingers brush against her silky skin and he can feel her shudder against him. It’s an ego boost - one that he desperately needed. With three wizards competing for her attention, he wants to know that she feels about them equally. His pride would never recover if she decided that their attraction wasn’t as potent as her and the others. The satisfied sighs and contented moans she voices let him know that the attraction is mutual.

He pulls back a little bit and slides his lips across her cheek. Their breathing isn’t heavy with lust, but the simplicity of the kiss settles perfectly. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t voice how perfect the kiss was, he just nuzzles her neck and rubs her back up and down. “I suppose it’s time for us to stop.”

“Unfortunately,” she laughs softly and gazes at him with a softness that shakes him to his core. No one has ever looked at him like that before and it makes him scared that it’s going to be taken away. That more than anything makes him apprehensive of what they’re planning to do.

“As much as I wish we could lay around and snog all day,” he teases her with a raised brow. “You better get ready to leave.”

Hermione kisses him on the cheek before shooing him out of the room. As he makes it into his shared room, he notices Theo and Blaise humming innocently while shooting him looks from the corner of their eyes. It’s at that moment that he knows that they were eavesdropping. How much they heard or witnessed, he doesn’t know, but he intends to find out. Draco sighs in exasperation and sends them a look that tells them to fess up.

Naturally, Blaise is the first one to break considering he’s never been able to keep a secret from them. He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, mate. We took a page out of your book and went to go say hello to our witch.”

“How much did you hear?” he growls at the both of them, relishing in the slight flinches he gets in return.

“Everything?” Theo questions uncertainty and looks at Blaise for guidance. All he gets is a dumbfounded expression. “Don’t look at us like that, Draco! We didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It just kind of happened.”

As if on cue, both of them have sorrow filling their eyes. Blaise is the first to speak. “I didn’t know she suffered through so much in the war.”

“Nor I,” Theo adds quietly before his face twists in pain. “I expected that things were bad, but not that bad.”

Draco doesn’t blame them for looking so tortured, because he felt the exact same when he heard what she had to say. The war inflicted a lot of damage on her and he doesn’t know how she could still be standing. Merlin knows he would have collapsed by now under the weight of trauma she’s experienced in her short lifetime. Just because they feel the same as him doesn't mean he’s going to let them off so easily. “You get to tell her that you were listening.”

“Do we have to?” Theo’s face goes white with apprehension. “I mean, come on-”

“You don’t have to,” Hermione walks into the room confidently. “I knew you guys were there.”

“What?!” Draco asks incredulously. He looks at her with raised eyebrows. “You knew they were there and you didn’t say anything?”

“How do you do that?” Blaise asks her curiously, his head tilted sideways.

Hermione ignores Blaise, and gives him a saucy wink. “Of course I knew they were there. Why do you think I didn’t jump your bones when I had the chance?”

“Seriously, how do you do that?” Blaise asks again.

“I wouldn’t have complained, even if they were watching.” Draco shoulders shake in amusement. This ignore Blaise game is fun.

“I don’t mind having an audience, either,” Hermione teases back. “I just didn’t want to corrupt poor Theo’s virgin eyes.”

“Oi!” Theo bursts with indignation. “I don’t have virgin eyes!”

“Must I really have to ask again?” Blaise asks with his hands on his hips and his eyes cast heavenward. Once again, he’s reminded of how dramatic his mate is.

Hermione decides to give him an out. “How do I do what, Blaise?”

“Just pop up out of nowhere! One moment you’re nowhere near, and then just like that,” Blaise snaps his fingers. “You’re right there.”

“Eloquent,” Hermione snorts in amusement. “You and Theo aren’t the only ones who can be sneaky.”

They both blush at the sarcastic reprimand and rush to shower her in apologies. “We’re sorry, love. We shouldn’t have listened in on a conversation not meant for our ears.”

“It’s okay,” she assures them with a smile. It quickly turns sharp. “But do it again, and I’ll serve your arses on a platter, got it?”

Draco smirks and crosses his arms as he watches his friends fall over themselves to ensure her that they’ll never do it again (he calls bullshite). If this is how she kept her two sidekicks in line, he doesn’t blame them for being a scared of her. The witch is a force to be reckoned with. One look at her eyes that light up with fire and he’d do whatever she wanted. It’s disconcerting. Now that he’s tasted her lips, he’s not so sure that he’d be able to deny her anything. The thought may have scared him in the past, but he can’t make himself feel badly about it at all.

It’s not that he’s picturing the white picket fence or anything, but he can see them lasting in a relationship for a long time. He hopes the Malfoy curse doesn’t make an appearance and ruin it. Malfoy’s are known to bugger things up when they get good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not having any of Death Eater conflict in this chapter, but I wanted Draco to get some love! Next chapter will go into detail about their plans and such. Writing this chapter felt like pulling teeth out, so try not to judge if it falls flat. Lol. Enjoy!


End file.
